


How Wonderful Life Is (Now You're In The World)

by marvelousshipper



Category: Deadpool (Comics), Marvel, Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Aunt May Is A Treasure, Domestic Fluff, Emily + May brotp 5ever, Emily Preston is a blessing, I don't know what happened to Shiklah, I'm sorry for how much Bob is in this fic but I love him too much to not include him, Like so much domestic fluff it's garbage, M/M, She probably left Wade after he started telling dad jokes, he tells a lot of dad jokes, it's fine I promise, oh and don't worry about the major character death, some agnst, teen rating is mostly based on me saying "fuck" a lot, wade is an agnsty character
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-31
Updated: 2017-03-19
Packaged: 2018-03-04 12:43:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 14
Words: 81,870
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3068369
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marvelousshipper/pseuds/marvelousshipper
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wade decides to hang up his mask in favor of settling down and raising his daughter. It actually goes slightly better than expected.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Talking

**Author's Note:**

> Title is taken from the lyrics of "Your Song" by Elton John because I am incredibly tacky and sappy.
> 
> Also Peter doesn't show up for like two chapters and 10,000 words oops. 
> 
> Sorry about that.

Shit, was he feeling nervous? Since when did he get nerves? He was Deadpool, Merc with a Mouth, a master of snark and assassination with a smile (though he was considering giving that second part up. Didn't really fit with the whole Danny Tanner image he was going for at this very moment.), so nerves weren't really something he was known for. Wasn't his style. 

Yet, as he raised his hand to politely knock on the wooden door to the modest suburban home, every part of his was filled with this weird anxious energy. He kinda felt like puking, kinda felt like stabbing something, kinda felt like running away. Above all, he felt he had to do this. Damn him and his philanthropic nature. 

{I'm not sure you know the meaning of philanthropic.}

[And you're totally doing this for selfish reasons. If you had any shred of human dignity you'd bolt for the other direction and stay the fuck away from that girl. She doesn't need someone like you messing up her life.]

_Guys, shut up. You're gonna ruin the surprise._

He didn't know why he felt nervous. What did he have to be nervous about? It's not like his entire lifestyle and responsibilities were going to be upended! And it's certainly not like he could completely destroy someone's life other than his own. He could totally handle this whole thing. Totally. Despite what the yellow and white boxes (brackets?), every hero he'd ever encountered, and his own self doubt screamed at him, he was more than ready. All he had to do was knock on this dumb door and he would start being a worthwhile individual. 

Annnnndddd his hand was still hovering there. Maybe if he was a little less exposed...no. He can't. His fingers itched to grab his mask, to pull it over and cover his emotions. He couldn't believe he didn't at least grab a hoodie to cover up most of his vomit-inducing appearence. He went for a t-shirt. He could feel the neighbors staring, some with disgust, some with pity. Two emotions he couldn't stand being projected at him. His skin crawled, as if he was having an allergic reaction to the fresh air. Shit, this was probably the first time she was going to see him like...this. Well there was that one Halloween costume, but that doesn't really count. He had still been almost entirely covered, and he could always claim that his face had just been makeup....

Anyway, he really did have to be this unsheltered, this raw and out in the open. At least for what he was about to do. After all, for seemingly the first time he could remember, he felt the need to be Wade Wilson, not Deadpool. The whole point of what he was about to do was to help get rid of his Deadpool persona. No more regeneratin' degenerate, no more crimson comedian, just.. Wade Wilson. Maybe that would be enough?

[Suuuurrrrreee. Because without the violence and sarcasm you have so very many interesting and worthwhile personality traits. Wade Wilson, messed up cry baby extraordinaire! Gosh, what a clinically insane and depressed catch. Truly, who would not want to spend their days with this hunk of scarred and deformed man meat.]

_You know what white box? You're a pain in the ass. Luckily for you, I'm not going to kill myself in order to get you to shut the fuck up. Shows how much I've grown, don't you think?_

{Yeah, we've got to think on the bright side guys! I mean, sure, our little Wade isn't the best individual, but just cause he's not going to be doing the fun stabby thing anymore, which is kinda lame, doesn't mean that the sarcasm, wit, and great jokes have to go. Even real heroes like Spider-man or Captain America use sass here and there as a defense mechanism, and so can you! Plus, you're still gonna need something to hide your true, terrible self without that mask.}

_See, yellow box, this is why I like you better. Silver lining and whatnot. Suck it, white box._

Okay. Okayokayokay he could do this. Just knock. 

And he did. It made an audible noise and everything! Step one, accomplished. Step two: wait and fight every urge to run in the opposite direction and never come back. He stood for a few moments before he heard a smattering of footsteps headed in his direction. Bless Preston for her speediness, a few more moments and he pretty sure his knees would've buckled out from underneath him. She opened the door, and when she saw him standing there, all vulnerable and awkward and things he wasn't supposed to be, she gave him a huge grin and pulled him in for a hug. 

For a second he forgot to hug her back, it had been a few months since he last stopped by, and the friendliness of the true goddess that was Emily Preston was rare. Affection and smiles weren't what he had come to expect from people, _especially_ when he had his mask off. Then again, she was practically family, but the good kind, the kind you choose rather than the type that you're stuck with. He remembered to reciprocate, wrapping his arms around her and grinning madly into her shoulder. Already he felt a little bit better about what he was about to do, a little bit less of a selfish abomination. Preston had that effect on him. 

They pulled away, both of them still with smiles on their faces. She greeted him with a grand, “Wade! Hello again. What have you been up to, I feel like we haven't seen you in ages. Not taking any too dangerous jobs, I hope.”

He gave a light laugh, if only to hide the extreme feeling of guilt and panic that was building up in his stomach.

“Come on, Preston. I have a healing factor, no job is too dangerous for me!”

She shot him a slight, but well-meaning, glare, before he continued. 

“But, nah, no jobs as of late. Just, you know, doing some stuff, getting some affairs into order, blah blah, etc. Shield's been a real bitch about paperwork lately, which I'm sure that I don't need to remind you of, seeing as you're a Shield agent and everything, which is actually really cool even if Shield and I don't always get along but then again who really gets along with large secret government agencies well I mean yeah you probably do considering you work there but really there's gotta be some things...”

“Wilson.”

“Mm?”

“You're babbling. What's wrong? Did a job go bad?”

“What? No, Pres, nothing like that. Just, um, nerves I guess. Haven't seen you guys in awhile, hoping that I'll still welcome in and all that. Nobody learned to hate me or anything while I was out.”

 

“Wade, don't be stupid. You're always welcome here. Now, I'm betting you're wanting to talk to Ellie after such a long, er, let's call it vacation?”

“No! Shit, I mean, yes, but.., ” Wade lowered his voice, trying not to be heard by anyone actually inside the house, “I was kind of hoping to talk to you about Ellie first.”

Preston gave a nod, before gesturing towards the house and telling him, “All right. Wanna come inside first? Maybe have some coffee?”

“Yeah, that's probably a good idea. And I think I'll skip out on the coffee. Food, however would hardly be turned down.”

Preston raised an eyebrow at him, then pointed at the fridge with a “Get some yourself” gesture. He shook his head briefly, knowing that food and his stomach wouldn't be exactly simpatico right now anyway. He sat at one of the stools that stood next to the bar area of kitchen, Preston opting to stand. She was looking at him with one of those serious expressions, one where he felt like his entire history was just there waiting for her to read. It made him squirm slightly, though her look came from a place of sincere concern. The voices were screaming at him to crack a joke or snark his way through this or just get up and walk away, but he knew he couldn't do that until he had said what he came here to say. Preston seemed to understand, but maybe after he told her, she would hate him. Maybe she'd finally see him as the monster he was. 

She was glaring at him again, but he had no idea what he did this time to deserve it. He hadn't even said anything! He thought. Then again he wasn't real clear on what was inner monologue and what was said aloud but still...

“You're far too quiet. Are you actually Wade Wilson? Who did I just let into my home?”

He gave a sardonic smile in response, before shaking his head a bit and actually engaging her the conversation he said he desired. 

“Sorry Pres, just got lost in my head for a bit. You should know, it's a pretty difficult place to navigate. You have first hand experience and everything!”

“That's what I'm concerned about. I _have_ been inside that head of yours, it's not a pretty place to get stuck in.”

“Eh, it's not all that bad. Helluva lot of art with my face on it. Feel a bit like a god. And not one of those lame ones like Thor. An actual god, not some misunderstood alien. Plus, confetti and Mexican food 24/7. And the voices..”

“Voices?”

“Oh, yeah! Ol' Yellow and Whitey weren't there last time you saw me. Came back though. Mostly because the writer wanted them back. Thinks they help reveal characterization and enjoys their sarcastic back and forth or something. This is a fanfic anyway, it doesn't have to be canon compliant.”

Preston was still glaring. She was also beginning to rub her temples. Man, he was really not helping his case, was he? 

“Wade, I understand that sometimes you just need to talk or else you'll get stuck in a dark place, but I have to ask, what _exactly_ did you want to discuss about Ellie?”

That was enough to sober him up, and enough to make his throat try to close. This is probably what anaphylactic shock felt like. 

[It's called a panic attack, asshole.]

_Not helpful. And I wouldn't call it full on attack. Just, you know, panic speechlessness and inability to breathe. It's not like it's gonna kill us._

{Haha very funny. But no seriously there are black spots at the edge of your vision you might want to calm the fuck down.}

“Wade, Wade, hey, you okay? Need some air? A paper bag to breathe into? I really would prefer you to not pass out on me.”

The ridiculousness of her facial expression actually helped calm him down quite a bit, even enough to let out a light snicker. God, it was such a concerned mom look, like he was some eight year old kid that scraped his knee on the playground rather than an unstable 30-something that used to kill people for money. Then again, she had that look because she was concerned, and a mom. Like a real mom, not some wannabe failure of a parent like he was attempting to be in about three seconds. She was so much better at this, so much more qualified...

Abruptly, he rose from his chair and headed for the door. He was being stupid, he really did just need to get the hell out of there, leave Preston and her family and his daughter alone for once so that they wouldn't be hurt by his stupid stupid goddamn impulses and..and no sooner than he had stood up and turned his head a voice called out to him. 

“Wade Winston Wilson you will sit your ass back down here and tell me what the hell is going on! I don't care if you're a trained assassin I have a robot body and I will smack you six ways to Sunday if you don't discuss what you came here to discuss!”

Damn, Emily was scary when she wanted to be. Her expression told him she was willing to put up with approximately zero percent of his bullshit from here on out, and her stance screamed righteously good natured fury. 

Wade sat his ass back down and did what he was told. However, he still wasn't able to make eye contact with her when he incoherently mumbled out, “I was just wondering if I could dskjkdsjfm,m .”

“Come again.”

“You know, I was just kind of hoping to asmkdhjfdsdmu.”

“Wilson, I'm going to give you one more chance before I make you just talk to your daughter directly.”

Oh shit, Preston meant serious business. Time to ramble until saying it didn't feel physically impossible.

“Okay, so here's the sitch.”

[You are not Kim Possible.]

{Stop trying to make “Sitch” happen.}

_You two, zip it._

“The last few months I really haven't been on a case or hanging with the Avengers or bothering Logan or any of that. When I said that I had to get some affairs in order, well, it had a lot to do with Ellie. And a lot with the Deadpool identity. I haven't been a mercenary in a while. Haven't killed in a year, haven't taken a job in a couple of months. In fact, Deadpool has been eliminated from any contacts except for a very, very select few. And that's only if the entire world is at stake. And if the main teams, you know, Avengers, X-men, Fantastic Four, Guardians, countless others, really can't handle it without one unkillable crazy guy. There's about five people that can contact Deadpool, and about ten that can even reach my personal, non-mercenary line. For almost all intents and purposes, Deadpool no longer exists except as a very badly messed up part of my psyche and an occasional way to get into Taco Tuesday for free, because the punch card is under his name.”

If Preston was surprised, it didn't show on her features. Actually, she just looked like she wanted him to stop beating around the bush and get to the damn point. He let out a sigh, remembering that he had faced much scarier things than a small child and a motherly woman, even if that woman did possess a terminator style robot body. It was just his future and the future of his daughter, no biggie. 

“Anyway, the thing is, Deadpool was...barely human. He wasn't a dad, he was a symbol of violence and snark and disgust and while I, just being fuckin'... I dunno, me, out in the open, unmasked Wade, maybe I'm something different or maybe even more than the person I was when I was wielding the costume and the katanas and willing to be aligned to whoever would pay the most. I know that's still a part of me and I can't ever be a real hero, but I thought, crap, I don't know, I thought I could try. I thought I could be something other than what I've been stuck with for the past...decade or so. Not that I have any other skills or could get a real job, but I have more than enough saved up that a job or steady income shouldn't be much of a concern. Man, the whole merc thing may be gruesome, but if you're good at it, it's actually pretty damn lucrative.”

“So, um, anyway, getting to the point. I've gotten a home, looked at schools, waded through the oceans of paperwork, planned this out actually pretty far in advance, and all I really need now is a self esteem boost and a signature.”

“You want to adopt Eleanor.”

She wasn't asking. 

Oh thank god she had said it instead of him. He gave her what he hoped was a sheepish grin but probably looked a hell of a lot more like a grimace. Weirdly enough, she didn't look like she wanted to throttle him for the mere suggestion. She looked contemplative more than anything, and Wade wasn't sure whether or not to find that reassuring. 

“Um, yeah. I do. If that's okay with you. And her. And the adoption agencies that I may or may not have bribed/threatened. But mostly you and her.”

“Why do you want her living with you rather than myself?”

The question was asked without malice and without hurt, she sounded genuinely curious. He wasn't prepared for that. Sincerity was not something he tended to deal with on a regular basis.

“Well, I, umm, first off, it has nothing to do with you or your parenting styles and skills because you're an amazing mom. And like I'm probably not gonna be that great of a dad it's not like I've ever done it before but like better than nothing and hell I can't be a worse father than I had but still like I doubt my abilties so much more than I doubt yours because I don't doubt yours at all so yeah it's not something like that. You're a great mom I'm sorry never mind it was just a stupid idea I'm full of those please ignore everything I have said up to this point.”

“Wilson. No. You have a reason. State it.”

Damn this woman was good.

“Okay, well, it's just that...Ellie isn't your daughter? Oh god that sounds bad wipe that from the record, retcon that statement. What I mean is you have your own family and your own life and while I know you wouldn't ever treat her differently, it's just,um, she's still not related to you? Like, I'm afraid that she might always feel like the outsider and you've got plenty of responsibilities that aren't dealing with messed up me and my far much less but still kinda messed up kid. Not that you've ever even hinted at being unhappy with the situation, it's just... god it's selfish. It's just, Ellie and I, we could be our own little real family. Not that you're not family, obviously you're family but I mean in a different sense? I just think she deserves a real dad, not that a mom's not good enough and your husband is great and all, but maybe I could actually be her dad like I was supposed to be? Maybe? I think, okay not really if I'm being perfectly honest I'm probably going to epically fuck up this whole parenting thing, but maybe I hope I could not fuck it up too bad?”

“Do you think you're ready to be a parent?”

“Not in the slightest.”

Preston gave a smirk at that response, and Wade was seriously wondering why she wasn't trying to stab him or kick him out of her house at this point. Instead she came round and patted him on the back. 

“Good. If you said yes, you wouldn't be like any decent parent I've ever met.”

“So...you'll consider signing?”

“I was already considering giving you custody, before you walked into the house.”

“What? But, what?”

“Look, Wade, I love that girl like she was my own. I would be calling you selfish, but honestly, there's this thing where having each other around seems to help you both.”

“Both? I'm sorry Preston, but that doesn't make any goddamn sense. I messed up everything for her, it's my fault that..”

“WILSON! SHUT YOUR TRAP!”

“Yes ma'am.”

“Now if you would stop interrupting me for thirty seconds and listen for once, you'd understand.”

“Obviously Eleanor helps you. I've known you before Ellie, and I've known you after. You always had the stirrings of a good man, perhaps even a hero, but Eleanor has brought those desires to be better to the forefront. You're not the man you used to be, and that's okay. Change is good. You were never a bad man, Wade. You just didn't know that. Yet, when you're around her, when you're being her dad, you can almost believe it for yourself.”

“As for Ellie, she's got issues. Any kid would after what she's been through, but it sure as hell isn't your fault. There are bad people out there that are actually bad, and it's their fault that that little girl has nightmares at ten years old. You were hardly in a position to help her before recently anyway, so stop beating yourself up about it. But that girl has gotten very attached to you very quickly. She doesn't like to talk much, but she talks about you endlessly. She believes with all her heart that her dad is a hero. And you know what, she's not wrong. She trusts you, she talks to you, and she feels safe around you in a way that the rest of us can't. Despite my better judgment, I really do believe that you could be a real father to that little girl. I think you two need each other. She humanizes and grounds you, and you are her dad, you will love her with all your heart and help her in every way you can. Do I make myself clear?”

He was awestruck. He was also definitely not crying. And even if he was crying, they were manly ass tears silently rolling down his cheeks like the cool but relatable antihero he was. And he was stoically appreciative of her response, not grinning like a massive idiot through his stupid happy tears. 

“What the hell did I do to deserve a friend as great as you?”

“Oh, I don't know, perhaps preserve my consciousness for several weeks and allow me to get back to my family without, you know, dying. That kind of thing my really stand out to a person.”

“Shit, man. You are too cool, you know that?”

“I do. One last thing though. As much as Ellie adores you, we do have to be certain that she would like to stay with you permanently. Also, my family and I still get to visit her and I will trust no one else to babysit unless they are an Avenger, and even then they have to go through a rather extensive screening process and background check. Agreed?”

“I figured that was already implied.”

She gave a satisfactory nod, before asking, “So, why don't you go talk to Eleanor? She should be upstairs in her room.”

Engage dread? Dread, engaged. Still, Preston was giving him another one of her looks that said that this was not optional, plus, well, he was potentially going to be raising the kid, better be able to talk to her sooner rather than later. With a deep inhale of breath, Wade left from the dining area, looked back to see Preston giving him two thumbs up, and held his breath as he headed up the stairs. The boxes were screaming at him, but, for once, he found them pretty easy to ignore. Who cares about some stupid voices when you've got life-changing shit to deal with? He went down the surprisingly familiar hallway to the second door on the right, decorated with pink and red and blue and sparkles and various superheros. There were even foam letters that haphazardly spelled out “Eleanor” pasted on the door. It was fucking adorable. 

Ah, look, more knocking was needed. This time, however, it seemed slightly easier, as he had already gotten over the hurdle of talking to Preston. Surely it would be easier to talk a nine year old girl than a now ageless robot that took the form of a badass mother hen Shield agent, right? 

[No.]

{Gotta agree with whitey. This is gonna be rough. Sorry bruh.}

It was too late now, he had already tapped on the door, loud enough to be audible, quiet enough to not be startling. Just as Ellie yelled, “Come in!”, Wade couldn't help but blanch as he remembered that he was sans costume. God, if he hadn't traumatized this kid already, he sure as hell was about to. Oh well, best get on with the (freak)show. 

He gingerly turned the handle and opened the door to see her sitting on her bedroom floor, blanket across her shoulders and a laptop in front of her. She was playing on some colorful kids website, and was distracted at the moment. This was his last chance to turn around and just walk away and ohp wait never mind she had already looked up. Ellie let out what could only be described as a squeal as she threw off her blanket and came running into his arms, with a very pleased exclamation of “Dad!”

He picked her up and held her on his hip, a big dorky smile plastered on his face as he looked at her and replied, “Hey baby girl.”

Her smile faded a bit when she looked back at him, and she asked, “Hey, Dad, are you okay? Did you get hurt while you were gone?”

Right. Not wearing the mask. Made him feel worse about what he was about to ask.

“Nah darlin'. This is just how I look. Is that okay?”

“Yeah, dad, that's okay. Just don't want you to be hurt. I don't like being hurt.”

“Well I am perfectly fine. Hey, um, your dad has a question for you.”

“Shoot.”

Fuckfuckfuckfuck. He was actually going to do this. He was going to ask to ruin this kid's life. 

“Well, I know you probably love it here with Preston and all, but how would you like to come live with me? You don't have to or anything, just if you want to. We could build pillow forts and your bed time would be later and I dunno it might be cool. It's your choice. I won't be offended if you say that you'd rather stay, I just thought it might be fun to live with you full time. What do you think?”

Ellie looked far too contemplative for a nine year old in that moment, before brightening up again and asking, “Could we get a dog?”

“I love dogs. Let's get ten.”

She giggled at that a bit, before replying, “No, that's okay. I just want one. A puppy of my very own! Emily won't let me get one, but I'd feed 'im and walk 'im and everything!”

“Well you sure as hell can have a puppy if you want a puppy.”

She motioned for him to put her down and she stood beside him, her hand still in his. She was tiny! What was he supposed to even do with a human being that small? She looked up at him a bit serenely, asking in a somber tone whether or not Emily would be mad or sad if she left. Wade reassuringly told her that he just lived next door, Preston would be able to visit any time, so she wouldn't be upset. Ellie beamed at that, and just said, “Okie dokie! Well then I'm gonna live with you! Jeff was bugging me a lot anyway. Why are boys so dumb?”

“That's a damn good, I mean, darn good question Ellie. Maybe one day you'll grow up and discover why and make a million bucks by revealing your wisdom upon the earth.”

She laughed a little at that comment as she said, “You're kind of weird. It's cool though, I'm kind of weird too.”

His face was going to break from this stupid smiling habit that was beginning to develop. Having his cheek muscles be permanently sore would be well worth having his daughter around. Even the voices seemed to be in agreement. Maybe this whole arrangement wasn't a terrible idea after all! Hell yeah, he was gonna be Wade Wilson, Dad with a Dog! [more like Dad with a Deformity] {No one asked you.} 

Wade scooped her up and placed her on his shoulders as they headed back downstairs to the kitchen, where Preston was waiting with a mug of coffee in her hands and an expectant look on her face. 

“So, sweetie, you talk to your dad?”

Ellie threw up her arms excitedly, nearly knocking Wade off balance with the sudden movement. Luckily, he was a smooth motherfucker and was able to quickly regain his footing before he dropped his daughter six feet onto the cold hard surface of the tile floor. 

She excitedly told Preston, “Yeah! I'm gonna go live with Dad and we're gonna get a puppy or ten and he's gonna help me figure out why boys are so dumb but I'm not sure he can help that much since he's a dumb boy but he can try and I'm gonna visit you all the time 'cause you're our neighbor and it's gonna be great!”

Preston's words may have said “Well that's wonderful hon. I'm sure you're going to have a lovely time with your dad,” but her smug ass expression told Wade, “I told you, you dumb smack.”

“Damn straight, Preston.”

“Language, Wade! She's already got a foul enough mouth for a nine year old as it is.”

Wade looked up to Ellie, who, apparently, really was his daughter, judging my the way she was currently wearing a shit eating grin. What a little brat. He had to resist the incredibly strong urge to yell “up top” and epically high five her, but Preston probably wouldn't approve of that little gesture, and she currently held the key to his attempt at full fledged fatherhood. He cleared his throat a little awkwardly, before taking some papers out of his back pocket, unfolding them for all to behold. 

“So, um, Pres. Would be willing to sign this stuff? It's mostly just stuff that let's me have custody again. Like, it's mostly a formality, but it makes me legally, or some approximation of legally, her guardian, rather than just her birth father. Like, yeah, you still don't have to sign or anything, but I would expect to babysit a lot, like, a lot, but still it would make it official and that would be nice and you've already signed it, haven't you?”

She had. Emily Preston truly was a blessing upon this earth. She handed the papers back to him, looking incredibly pleased with both herself and the situation as a whole, mouthing a simple “Go on” as he put the papers back in his pocket. He turned away from her and began to run out of the house, his hands on Ellie's ankles in order to keep her steady on his shoulders. Delightedly, she squealed out “Daddy! I need my stuff!”

“We can get your crap after ice cream, but for now, we feast like kings!”

She pumped her fist into the air with a war cry and a proud exclamation of “OH HELL YEAH! ICE CREAM FOR ALL!”

Well, this whole adoption thing went better than he expected.


	2. Moving In

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The first of Bob's (far too many) appearances! Wooooo!

This whole thing was going worse than he expected. His home had been previously owned by an elderly couple, and he had thrown out the vast majority of their shit out several months ago. It wasn't as if the house screamed “kid-friendly” to start with, but now it just said "bachelor pad". He didn't even have a real bed, just a futon, for Christ's sake. Actually, there was a lack of...pretty much everything. No real furniture besides a coffee table and some bean bags, no decent food in the pantry or fridge. Hell, he didn't even have real dishes. Everything was throwaway and plastic. PLUS he had no clue how to cook the vast majority of foods. Hopefully Ellie liked pancakes and enchiladas, as those were pretty much the extent of his culinary skills. He had been so caught up in the things like paperwork and checking out schools and essentially erasing his former identity that he had forgotten the little things. Like groceries. Or an actual couch. And chairs. 

Luckily, Preston was there to save his ass, as per usual. She said that he was free to move anything of Ellie's back to his house, including her bed. Her husband was also kind enough to provide them with several pounds of pre-made food. Supposedly, "he could relate to the difficulties of suddenly being a single parent". Preston had called out, “THAT WAS TEMPORARY,” from two floors up and several rooms over, showing off the super human hearing that came with that nifty robot body of hers. 

Then again, Preston's limitless generosity came with the condition that she wasn't going to be the one to move all of Ellie's shit. So here he was, standing in a nine year old girls bedroom, surrounded by all manners of glitter and action figures and butterflies and Nerf guns (she had apparently inherited many of his interests), and completely at a loss for what to do. Maybe if he had a hella rad super strong metal skeleton or even an awesome flying super strong exoskeleton like _some_ people, this wouldn't be much of a concern, but one nicely toned but rather lazy man wasn't going to cut it. He could call a moving place, but they'd probably not be the most willing to move crap across the street, and he was really trying to cut back on the whole “threatening people until they do what you want” thing. Goddamn, it was hard being a decent person. He now understood why he never really got into the whole actual “super hero” thing. Anti-hero was so much better for his personality and carefree attitude towards most moralities. Yellow box was practically whining for him to just pull out a sword and freak out some civilian into doing his bidding. White box didn't give a shit what he did, as long as there was going to be tacos at the end of the day. They were getting easier to tune out these days. Especially because he actually had a marginally better plan than either of their suggestions. He whipped out his cell phone and dialled one of the few contacts he still had. 

The phone rang about three times before someone, thankfully, picked up. A nervous voice asked, “H-hello? Who is this?”

“Bobby boy! Eyyyyyyy long time no see bro! How've you been, how's the wife? Still a controlling manipulative she-witch? I assume so! So what evil corporation are you associated with now! Sure hopin' it's not U.L.T.I.M.A.T.U.M., those bitches kidnapped my daughter and I'd probably have to kill you for daring to affiliate yourself with them! Anywhooooo, how strong are you? I've got a favor to ask, and I promise no stabbing or shooting you this time! Probably even bare minimum amounts of public humiliation!”

“Mr. Wilson? Sir, I haven't heard from you in years. Why do you need to know my strength? And wait, did you say something about your daughter? I'm very confused.”

“Ah, Bob, your loyalty will truly go on to inspire generations! Thank you so much for your understanding in this matter! So, how far are you from New York?”

“Well, actually, I'm only a few miles away from the edges of the city but I really don't-”

“Excellent! I'll text you the address and I'll see you in about an hour! Kthnxbye!”

Before Bob had any time to protest, Wade hung up the phone and shot him a quick message, knowing that Bob would show pretty much no matter what. Despite the fact that the man had worked for both HYDRA and AIM, Wade was fully willing to trust him with this whole new life and new start thing he was planning out. As much flack as he had given the man, he could probably consider him a true friend, or at least a true lackey, and they'd made it through some rather sticky situations together. Admittedly, Deadpool had gotten them into the majority of those messes, but hey, let's not dwell on the past. He was starting to get all gross and nostalgic, which usually lead tobeing all gross and emotionally unstable, and it would be a shame to lose his current dopey and sunshiney mood because of something as silly as the past.

Wade shot off a quick message to Bob before deciding that he deserved a break for his abundant brilliance. After all, it wasn't like he could do a lot in the next hour besides pack up Ellie's toys, and that sounded tedious and boring, so he decided to grab a soda from Preston's fridge and spread out on the couch. Preston had taken Ellie and the family out to the zoo for the day, so Wade had the house to himself. He also just so happened to bring over the disc collection of the first season for Golden Girls, so the next course of action seemed pretty damn obvious. He threw in the DVD, stretched out to a comfortable position, and settled into to the sweet sweet comforts of Bea Arthur. Somewhere along the line, his eyelids betrayed his interest, his comfort betrayed his alertness, and he fell into a rather blissful sleep.

And then the door bell rang. Wade nearly had a heart attack because holy shit Preston was gonna be so fucking pissed. He scrambled up despite his protesting limbs, nearly broke the DVD player by pressing the eject button so hurriedly, and rushed his way to the door. He attempted to regain some composure, breathing for a second and trying to come up with some reasonable lie to tell Preston about why he had gotten approximately nothing done that day, before opening the door with baited breath. 

However, today was his lucky day. Instead of one steaming mad Emily, there was just one mildly confused Bob, still clad in his uniform. He gave a just barely maniacal laugh of relief, before wrapping an arm around the nervous man's shoulder and making a grand sweeping gesture towards the interior of Preston's house. 

“Bob, babe, glad to see ya! Welcome to our next mission! Though I would've recommended changing into street clothes, spandex isn't exactly great for the flexing and heavy lifting that we're about to do. Actually, spandex isn't really conducive to anything. It's a bitch to wash, tears easily, is tight in _all_ the wrong places, and looks good on about .05% of the population. Why don't we all wear like comfortable pajama pants and hoodies. I could kick ass in pajama pants. Wait, shit, asses! That's right! We all agree to the torture of spandex for the sake of super booty. And who doesn't like themselves some super booty, amirite Bob? I mean, come on, Captain America, Black Widow, Spider-man? Truly the epitome of fine asses clad in spandex, wouldn't you say? Capsicle especially. Cap's ass gets 50 out of 50 stars. ”

Bob had this kind half cringe thing going on before he asked with a moderate amount of horror in his voice, “What, exactly, is our mission? Are we going to kill someone in this house? Are you going to shoot me again? I'm not really a fan of the whole being shot thing. Sorry, sir.”

Wade let out a false chuckle that did approximately nothing to allay Bob's concerns, so he continued on with, “Bob, I already told you, it's nothing like that. You're not a very good listener, you know that? You should probably work on that. All we're gonna do today is move some furniture.”

“Is...is that a euphemism?”

“Not in the slightest! I specifically need help with a nine year old girl's bed.”

“Why are we stealing a small child's bed?”

“Bob! Your lack of faith disturbs me! We're not stealing it, we're moving it from this house to the house next door, because the child living here is soon going to be living over there. Also, you're gonna need to carry her crap. Ellie's got a shit load of toys. Preston probably spoils her because she's been through been through psychological and physical trauma. But that's no biggie, like, it's hardly an excuse. Actually it is kind of a biggie. Damn, I've gonna have to talk to her therapist. Gotta make sure this shrink's all right, I've had some pretty bad experiences, and that is the exact opposite of what I want for my little girl. She's gonna grow up healthy and happy, god dammit, despite Life's best attempts to say otherwise.”

Wade's expression got a bit darker, some forgotten memories resurfacing across his features. Luckily, Bob interrupted whatever train of thought he was currently riding with an ever quivering voice. 

“I think I've missed about 14 things. Could we start again with the part about your daughter?”

“Just help me move the damn bed, Bob.”

“Okay sir.”

Wade dragged the poor man back up to Eleanor's room, not particularly careful about how he handled Bob. There were about a million and one toys to trip over and step on, so before they got started, someone was going to have to pick this mess up. Wade promptly pointed at the floor and stared Bob in the eye, barking out, “Lackey! Gather the crap!”

Bob briefly looked as if he was going to obey, before a better idea came instead. He gathered all of his courage to stand defiant to Deadpool (Wade? Wade seemed wrong. He had been Deadpool for so long...but he wasn't wearing his mask....what a confusing individual.), arms folded across his chest and a blank expression. 

“No. Do it yourself.”

Wade raised his non-existent eyebrows at him as he incredulously asked, “What did you just say to me?”

Bob deflated instantly, hunching inwardly as he hesitantly responded, “Um, no? I just meant, well, she's your daughter, so, um, the toys are your responsibility, and, uh, yeah?????”

Wade smiled again, and weirdly enough didn't look like he was about to kill him, so Bob allowed himself to feel a little relieved. A little. Deadpool had never been known for his predictability or stability. Still, Deadpool's smile seemed to be sincere, before a large smirk appeared across his features. Bob braced himself for the worst, expecting to come out of this situation with a new hole in his body, but instead the man just said, “Good point.”

“R-really?”

“Yeah. Counterargument though. If you gather up her shit, I'll buy you a pizza, and neither of us will break something because we stepped on a fucking Lego while we were moving the bed.”

“...A poisoned pizza?”

“Actually, I was thinking pepperoni. Cheese would be acceptable as well, if that's what you preferred. Oh, wait, meat lovers man. Pizza of champions! Pizza of manliness! Official pizza recommendation of Wolverine!”

“You are indeed a changed man.”

“Thanks?”

“I do not know quite yet.”

“So it's a yes to dealing with Ellie's crap?”

“Yes? Yes. Okay.”

“Perfectamundo! Always knew you were a true friend!”

With that, Deadpool flopped onto the bed and made a wiggly hand gesture to signify that Bob was supposed to start. There were a few empty cardboard boxes lying about, with various things such as “(fake) guns and knives and pointy things”, “action figures for all of your Internet meme needs”, “Girly crap that I will in no way steal in order to decorate Stark tower later on”, and “lol look at all this nerd shit like books and chemistry sets. Bruce Banner would be proud” written on them in permanent marker, which Bob assumed were supposed to be used to sort and gather this girl Eleanor's things. He thought about asking Deadpool about the exact categories, but when he looked up at the man, he appeared to be deeply invested in a Magic Tree House book, so he figured it was best not to disturb him. He started with the fake pointy things box, assuming that there would be the least amount of artifacts to gather for that box. 

Bob had been wrong. So very, very wrong. Eleanor had a Nerf collection that would bring hardcore enthusiasts to tears. On top of that, she had a largely extensive collection of fake weapons, including a frighteningly realistic (but harmless) katana and an impressive replica of Mjolnir. Actually, just the weaponry alone took up three boxes, all weirdly pre-labeled for the very purpose of storing these items. (The other two boxes were labeled as “MY DAUGHTER IS WORTHY OF THE POWER OF THOR” and “Dammit Ellie light sabers aren't even part of the Marvel universe. Also how the hell did you get a hold of one of Tony Stark's repulsion beams?” Bob understood about a quarter of what Deadpool had written.) 

With those boxes stacked and out of the way, “Girly crap” and “action figures” took up nearly no time. Actual toys weren't the highest on Eleanor's priorities, according to sheer volume of her various things. “Nerd shit” turned out to be the biggest hassle, Eleanor had books everywhere. Every nook and cranny and shelf and horizontal surface was over-crowded with books of some sort. There were comic books, which were already a weird enough experience in of itself, but there were also plenty of novels long beyond her years. He was almost certain he had seen at least one copy of both _War and Peace_ and _Les Miserables_. Of course, there were plenty of much more age appropriate titles such as Judy Blume stories or _Charlotte's Web_. These books actually looked well read and enjoyed, the more challenging titles being left for a different stage in life. 

None of this was _that_ surprising, but there was one thing of note. Almost every book looked practically new, and almost every book had a brief comment on the title page. The Princess Bride had “For once, the movie is just as good! Get Emily to show it to you”, a collection of H.P. Lovecraft said “Too spooky! Wait until older and have been through at least one major existential crisis”, Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone simply had, “Sorcery!”, The Sword in the Stone read, “More sorcery! Classic sorcery!”. Bob tried to resist the urge to go through the various notes, and completely and utterly failed. Deadpool, er, Wade had passed out about an hour ago anyway, so he was sure that the man really wouldn't mind. The notes varied in quality. Some were touching, some were amusing, and many had language that probably wasn't the most appropriate for a nine year old girl, or anyone really. Bob's favorites, however, were the heartwarming ones. Deadpool seemed to have a lot of novels that he cared about, and in the ones he really loved, he would often tell his daughter that he loved her as well, with notes such as “This book is almost as great as you are. Well, not really, because you're the best thing in this world,” or “This book got me through a lot as a kid. Kind of like how you get me through everything now.”

Bob couldn't help but smile at the weirdness of it all. Last time he had seen the guy, Deadpool was really trying to die. He claimed at the time that it was because Lady Death was “super hot,” but there was clearly something deeper going on. Bob knew that Deadpool wasn't a man with many friends or even people he could trust, but things seemed to have changed, gotten better for him. For the sake of his friend, he sincerely hoped that this whole “daughter” thing worked out for him. 

Just as Bob was packing up the final book (There had been five boxes of them! Five!), Deadpool was finally roused from his sleep. The man stretched out every inch that he could while letting out a thundering yawn, while sleepily looked around the room at Bob's progress. He perked up to see the floor clear of any little trinkets or machetes, and gave Bob a sleepy thumbs up. He shook his head a little, wondering why the hell he kept falling asleep. Granted, he had gotten about 2 hours of combined sleep in the past week due to recurring nightmares, but that wasn't anything new for him. Preston's house was practically a sedative for him, he had slept for a longer, more dream-free period of time than he had in years. Then again, maybe he just really didn't feel like moving stuff that day. 

Wait. Bob had pretty much packed up everything. Crap, how long had he been out? He rolled over to look at the alarm clock on the little bedside table Ellie had (Hello Kitty clock. He approved), and it read a blaring 6:30. Shit shit shit shit Preston was supposed to be back by 7:00. With a bit of a panic, he sprung off of the bed and pointed at Bob. The man looked as if he was about to say something, but Wade interrupted him with a declaration of, “MOVE MOVE MOVE MOVE MOVE OPERATION GET SHIT MOVED OR GET OUR ASSES KICKED IS OFFICALLY GO!”

With that sense of urgency Bob didn't really have a choice in the matter. Wade had already taken up one of the boxes and was booking it for the door, and Bob was struggling to keep up. Upper body strength wasn't really his forte, so he was having a rough time there, but his HYDRA training had prepared him to run in almost any scenario, so that part he had down. Still, by the time he had gotten the first box to the rather sparse house next door, Wade had already gotten three inside. 

For the next fifteen minutes, neither of them said anything as they rushed back and forth. Eventually, the only thing left in Ellie's room was her furniture and her clothes that had been hanging in the closet. Preston had already given Wade permission to wait until another day for the clothes, but she was not going to be pleased if the bed was still there, considering that's what he had come over for in the first place. With a sense of urgency that Bob wouldn't have predicted, Wade started gesturing at the bed, muttered curses under his breath. Bob went up and placed a hand on the man's shoulder, hoping that it would make him relax rather than make him jump. Wade flinched slightly, but afterwards calmed the fuck down and didn't try to hurt Bob. Bob made an effort to reassure him, telling him in a steady voice, “Okay, first we need to take it apart. Unscrew the bed frame, make the box springs and mattress separately, just go for it piece by piece. It'll be fine.”

Wade gave a deep sigh and began to take everything off the frame. He gave smile at Bob, though it didn't seem particularly happy or relieved as he said, “Thanks man. Guess I'm just kind of wildly unprepared for this whole thing, ya know?”

“For moving a bed? It's really not all that bad sir, and I'm here to help! With two of us, it shouldn't been too difficult.”

A dangerous look crossed the man's features before it was replaced with an easy nonchalance. 

“Not really what I meant, but thanks for the support anyway. Now let's get this bed transferred so that you can enjoy that pizza and I can enjoy not being yelled at by Preston.”

“That sounds like an excellent plan sir.”

They didn't get the bed moved on time. Preston had gotten home with the kids and the husband when she had promised, and they had only gotten the mattress moved over to Wade's place. Preston wasn't all that upset though, seeing as they had packed up and moved almost everything else out of the bedroom. Still, Preston wanted the bed out before Eleanor permanently moved next door. Wade figured this was understandable, as he didn't really have a place for her to sleep until that was done. As they waited for the pizza, he and Bob finished transporting and assembling the bed in the biggest room next door, which was soon to be the new home of one Eleanor Camacho. Wade even thanked him and congratulated him on a job well done, which was suspicious, but appreciated. As Bob went to munch on the pizza, Wade decided to talk to his daughter, who was covered in various memorabilia and had a huge grin plastered on her face. 

“Hey darling, how was the zoo?”

The nine year old was sprawled out on the couch, looking rather unfocused and starry-eyed. However, when he asked his question, her eyes lit up and she threw her arms up in the air, declaring, “Oh my gosh Dad it was so great! We saw monkeys an' elephants an' giraffes an' peacocks an' there was a ferris wheel an' I don't know why there was a ferris wheel but there was an' we went on it and it was so great and so high and Jeff was scared of heights but I wasn't because I'm not a wuss and it was so great Dad let's go to the zoo everyday!”

“Sounds great honey. Hey, you want a slice? Must be hungry after running around all day. I know I'm hungry after going to the zoo.”

[Didn't you kill a bunch of animals last time you went to the zoo?]

{No I think he just killed an elephant or two.}

[*just*]

_Yeah, well, that elephant impaled me. Elephants can go fuck themselves._

The girl finally turned her head to look at her father directly, and when she did, she looked like she had _seen_ things. It was a weirdly distressed look for the girl as she whispered, “Dad I ate so much cotton candy and I think I'm gonna puke, but it was so worth it.”

Wade tried not to laugh, he really did, but goddamn that was the most adorable thing he had ever heard, especially mixed with that wide-eyed look of concern she was giving him. Before he could completely crack up, Preston came over, telling him rather fondly, “The kids have been a bit overstimulated today. I was thinking I would just put in a Disney movie and let them fall asleep on the couch. Once Ellie is out feel free to take her to her new home.”

“That sounds like an excellent plan, Pres.”

Preston went over to put Mulan, only giving a slight eye brow raise when she saw the Golden Girls DVDs that Wade had forgotten about. The kids perked up for the movie, considering it was one of their favorites, and Wade went to go sit next to his daughter. About ten minutes into the film, the kids were completely wiped out, Jeff snoring on his side and Ellie's head loosely held up by Wade's side. He looked up at Preston with a slight sense of urgency, not really knowing what to do with such a small and fragile human being. Preston mouthed “Go on” at him, to which he mouthed back “Now?”, very uncertain of his next step. She nodded vigorously, and he attempted to scoop the girl in his arms as gently as he could as he stood up. He appeared to have done this successfully, as Ellie simply made a few mumblings before nudging his shoulder and going back to steady breathing. Dammit, if she kept being this adorable and precious his heart was going to grow three sizes, which would result in just all sorts of medical complications. Preston gave him a thumbs up when he pointed towards the door, and he made his way across the street. The outside air was brisker than he expected, and he severely wished that he had brought a jacket or blanket for her, but aside from a few noises and turns of her head, she didn't seem to bothered. Luckily, the walk was short, and he stepped inside their new home as gingerly as he could. The damn floorboards were squeaky as hell, and he really needed carpeting as of yesterday, but he made it to her bed without her waking up. He delicately placed her under the covers, head on the pillow and the blankets warm. He thought about kissing her forehead like he had seen in movies, but instead settled for a small wave and a “Good night Ellie.” 

As he turned to exit the room, however, Ellie suddenly bolted upright in her bed, calling out, “Dad wait!”

Every muscle tensed up as Wade automatically went on the defense. He spun around to face his daughter, ready to spring into action if there were some sort of danger present. 

“What is it baby girl? Nightmare?”

She gave a sleepy smile at him that helped him relax a bit as she stammered out, “No...no silly goose. I just need to talk to you about my birthday party.”

Oh, okay, that was a relief. Wait, shit, birthday party? Was she really almost ten? Fuck. 

“Birthday party? When's that?”

Ellie let out a yawn and stretched out her arms, smacking her lips and rubbing her eyes in the most preciously typical way that kids do. She was a little more alert as she pulled her knees up and rested her arms on them, telling him, “Next Tuesday, on my birthday! Emily's gonna throw me a big party with all of my schools friends! It's gonna have a bouncy castle and cake and everything! But, um..”

Ellie looked down at her shirt and began to twist it in her fingers, suddenly unwilling to look Wade in the eye. 

“I was wondering if you could help me with something?”

“Of course Ellie! Anything!”

“Well, um, do you know Spider-man?”

“Duh. Met the guy plenty of times. Even traded costumes once or twice. We're practically besties!”

Ellie looked up at Wade, a little more hopeful than she had been a second ago. 

“Do you think, um, maybe, that you could get him to come to my birthday party? He's my favorite, well, I mean, 'sides you Dad, but that would be sooo cool and I could brag to all of my friends about having the real Spider-man and not some lame-o impersonator and I'd be the coolest kid with the coolest dad and I'd get to meet Spider-man and..!”

Ellie stopped herself suddenly, realizing that her dad hadn't said “Yes” to her question. Drawing from all of her learned skills in looking cuter than cute, she drew out her puppy eyes and looked at her dad, hoping for the best. He ruffled her hair for a bit and smiled, telling her, “Sure sunshine. I can totally get Spider-man to come. After all, he'd do anything for friend, right?”

Ellie shrieked and threw her arms around him, squealing, “Thank you thank you thank you!”

He pulled her forward, reciprocating the hug and stroking her back, smiling into her shoulder. Despite protests from the boxes, he leaned back and let her go as he said, “Alrightie kiddo, you know what the best way to say thank you would be?”

“What?” she asked, slightly nervous. 

“For you to get some sleep, silly. You've had a long day, and it's gonna be busy tomorrow, so it's time for you to go to bed.”

Ellie opened her mouth to protest, but instead of words a rather large yawn came out, so she just replied with a sleepy, “m'kay Dad,” and flopped onto her bed, pulling the blankets around her and snuggling in. Wade got up from the side of her bed and headed out, mulling over what exactly he had just promised.

[Why the hell did you lie to that girl? No way you're gonna be able to get Spider-man.]

{He's certainly not our close friend. He barely tolerates us.}

_Oh come on guys, it's not that bad. Spidey might not be overly fond of us, but he's a hero, and heroes do things to make precious little nine year old kids happy, right? He can't possibly have a grudge against Ellie._

{Well, maybe. Still, it is pretty short notice. You got a plan?}

_Of course!_

[Does it involve a dress?]

_Obviously. I look fucking amazing in dresses!_

{Do we get to stab someone? How I do miss stabbing people.}

_Dude, how many times, no stabbing! We're not going to kill, stab, maim, or otherwise completely destroy someone's livelihoods! That's not how we roll any more. Unless, of course, someone hurts our little girl. Then all those things are our exact MO._

Wade could practically hear the whine in yellow box's voice as it said {You're no fun anymore. Are you sure we couldn't do one little stabbing?}

[Stabbing is rather enjoyable. I'm certain one little incident couldn't harm your reputation any further...]

_No! No, no, no, and no! What about this whole “change” thing are you not getting through your thick borders? We're not going to hurt people that don't hurt us first! Now, will you two keep quiet for a minute, I'm trying to figure out how to not completely crush my daughter's dreams within the first week of officially being her dad._

{Killjoy.}

[Pansy.]

_Shh!_

It only actually took a few moments of thinking before he had a plan worked out. The only trouble was how little time he had, but with sufficient funds, it shouldn't be too much of problem. Damn, he was gonna be the most impressive dad on the block, getting Spider-man to attend. Assuming the man didn't automatically think he was up to trouble, and that he believed his true purpose for stopping by, and that he actually was available that day. Wade quickly shrugged those doubts off, knowing that everyone had their price, and he could be very, ahem, _persuasive_.

Reflecting on the idea some more, he realized that he would probably have to call Bob again. That's all right, he was more than certain Bob would do anything to help a friend. Content with his plans for tomorrow, Wade jumped onto the futon and read a novel until he fell asleep, and for once, he was rather looking forward to the next day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0QtM7X0xYN8
> 
> Please watch this video not because it is in any way relevant to the story, but because it is something that I can completely imagine Wade doing.
> 
> That is all.


	3. Birthdays

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spider-man finally shows up. God, it's about time, _Peter_.

Why was Bob complaining so much? All they had to do was transfer a piano, sound system, and karaoke machine onto the roof. How hard could it be? Bob insisted that there was no way that the two of them could move the thing, so instead of arguing, Wade just ripped out the interior mechanisms of the piano with a combination of pure determination and wire cutters. Bob had looked horrified at the desecration of such a magnificent instrument, but Wade seemed entirely nonplussed, seeing as the piano was mostly for show anyway. After that, Bob had no complaints (that he would vocalise), and they were able to set everything up on the roof in about two hours, minutes before Spider-man was likely to show up. 

Preston had given him the night off from his fatherly duties so that he could go and...fulfill other fatherly duties. He was doing this for Ellie, after all. The woman wasn't particularly pleased that she was being asked to babysit on the first day that he had his daughter in his custody, but once he told her the reason he was leaving, and reminding her that Ellie would be fast asleep by the time he left, she reluctantly agreed to watch the house for him. 

He had said that he would be gone most of the night, but was actually kind of hoping that it wouldn't take that long. If Spidey was cooperative that evening, it really shouldn't, but there was always the possibility that Wade would have to waste hours chasing his stupid spandex-clad ass down. That would be inconvenient for a multitude of reasons, not the least of which being that underneath the wig he had on his Deadpool mask and he was currently trying to keep his mercenary side rather low profile. Spending months trying to practically erase Deadpool would be useless if he spent the entire night running around the middle of New York in costume. Plus, the long red dress he was wearing may have been killer with his figure, but didn't do much in the way of keeping him warm in the brisk fall air. 

Luckily, Spider-man seemed to be out and about entirely on schedule. When Wade spotted him swinging in the distance, Wade hurried to make the final preparations, Bob helping him out. 

“Okay, Bob, how's the wig? Does it look good?”

“It looks fine, sir.”

“Yeah, but does it look _good_?”

“The wig is dazzling.”

“And the dress? Are the boobs too much or …?”

“The dress looks wonderful.”

“Don't tease me Bob I'm very vulnerable at this moment.”

“It's a surprisingly and disturbingly good look, actually.”

“Perfect, just what I was going for. Thank you for your input.”

Satisfied with how he was made up and with Spider-man fast approaching, Wade and Bob quickly got into position. Bob sat at the piano, looking entirely at a loss about what to do, while Wade got into his best seductress pose on top of the piano. He propped himself on one elbow, bent up one knee, and threw his head back while holding a microphone to his lips. As soon as Spidey was in range, Wade looked down at Bob and whispered, “C minor, put it in C minor.”

“Wade, I don't know how to play the piano. And even if I did, this one wouldn't work.”

“I know it's just... you know what never mind Bob. I got this.”

Wade pressed play on the karaoke machine, put the microphone to his lips, and projected himself tenderly beginning to sing, “Where have all the good men gone, and where are all the gods?”

~~~

What the? Where was “I Need A Hero” coming from? Who was singing it? Peter was suddenly pulled out of his scan of the streets by the sudden appearance of the music. After a moment or two of looking around, the source became rather obvious. A few rooftops over, there was a man at a piano wearing what looked suspiciously like a HYDRA uniform and a tail coat, accompanied by another person on top of the piano who had long blond hair, a sparkling red dress, and a mask covering their face. The one on top of the piano was clearly the one singing, while the man appeared to be fake-playing the piano. He had to admit, his curiosity was piqued. The patrol went to the back of his mind as he swung over to investigate just what exactly was going on, and when he got closer, the singer was hardly a surprise.

“Deadpool? What the hell are you doing?”

Deadpool paused in the middle of the line “He's gotta be strong and he's gotta be fast” to smile widely at Peter. He hopped off of the piano, tossing the microphone away and ignoring the blaring of the karaoke machine. With an air of nonchalance and light-heartedness, Deadpool wrapped an arm around his shoulders, and looked off into the distance before turning to look Peter in the eyes (mask?).  
“Hey, sweetums! So glad that song got your attention, 'cause I'm gonna need a favor. I'm sure a big, strong, hero like yourself wouldn't mind in the slightest.”

Peter's entire body tensed, a chill running down his spine at those words. While his spider sense wasn't alerting him to any immediate danger (beyond the residual buzzing that was always present any time Deadpool was near), that man only needed a favor when someone was dead, dying, or soon to be dying.  
Despite his better judgement, instead of just slinging away, he reluctantly asked, “What, exactly, do you want?”

Deadpool grinned even further underneath the mask, telling him, “I need you to come to a party this Tuesday,” while making wild jazz hands. 

“What?”

Deadpool sobered up a bit, placing a hand on his hip and poking Peter in the chest as he told him, “A birthday party, specifically. This Tuesday. One o'clock. Show up or I'll look like a terrible dad.”

Peter blinked at him, thankful that there was a mask to hide his open mouthed expression. He tried to mentally back track through what Deadpool had just said, but there was still a lack of logic in those last few statements.

“Wait, hold up, back track. What are you talking about?”

Deadpool let out an exaggerated sigh as he elaborated. “Jeez, I thought you were supposed to be smart, but I swear, you're just as bad as Bobby over here. Look, it's not the most complicated thing in the world. My daughter is turning ten on Tuesday, and you're her favorite superhero besides yours truly, well, I mean, not that I'm a hero or anything but hey she thinks that I am so yeah, and I want you to come to the party or else I'll be disappointing my little girl. Plus, I kind of sort of told her that we were besties and that you'd do anything for your old friend, so really you have no excuse not to show. Not showing would be a dick move.”

“All right, first of all, we're not that good of friends. I will admit we've helped each other out of some jams, but my reputation is already bad enough, I'd rather not be associated with an unstable mercenary. No offense.” The mercenary looked a little hurt, but Peter continued on, speaking more to himself than as a response to the man. 

“Secondly, I'm busy Tuesday. I have schoo...uhhhh....wooork. Yeah. Work. Like the adult I am. I'm not even supposed to do birthday parties, all that cake would destroy my figure, and spandex is not a forgiving material, and, oh yeah, more importantly, I still have the whole superhero thing. You, my friend, have it easy being a mercenary, you know that? You get paid, and you take jobs when you feel like taking jobs, you don't have about fifty different teams and organizations all trying to contact you at once, and I bet you get more than three hours of sleep at night! Anyway, sorry, not the point, can't make Tuesday. Finally, and definitely most importantly, you have a daughter? What the hell? Since when? With whom? How? What?”

Instead of answering his questions, Deadpool gave a snort and a smirk at him, asking, “You have to go to school? What are you, like twelve?”

“For your information, it's grad school, so, just, shut up. I'm an adult. Besides, my age isn't really the point right now. What's _actually_ important here is that you are a father and that is incredibly concerning considering how often you kill people.”

“Oh calm your titties Spidey, I'm retired from the whole killing people thing. I hardly ever permanently maim them these days. Even if they're being difficult like one web-clad crusader of justice is being right now. Which is why, instead of making threats like my unenlightened past self would have done, I have something to offer.”

Peter looked vaguely disgusted as Deadpool rooted around his stuffed bra, but his expression immediately changed to a bit star struck when he saw what the merc had pulled out. There was a big, shiny, fat wad of hundred dollar bills being presented to him in a perfectly casual manner. He didn't think he had ever seen that much cash at once, and if he had, it certainly wasn't being put in his direction. 

“One afternoon, about eight kids, and ten thousand dollars. Waddya say, arachanerd?”

If Peter had a drink in that moment, he would have spit it out all over his mask. Ten thousand flipping dollars?! For making an appearance at a birthday party, that was some seriously lucrative cash. That would be more than three pay checks. That could pay for half a semester of college. He could give it to Aunt May and she could actually take a break for once in her life. Oh man, that was a tempting offer. 

Then again, this was Deadpool. What the man said and what the man meant weren't always exactly the same thing. For all Peter knew, when Deadpool said “Birthday party” he could actually mean “Assassinate the president,” or “invade a small nation” or even “start a strip club”. Despite the selfish part of his brain screaming many, many things at him, he had to just kind of shrug as he said, “Sorry, no can do.”

Deadpool froze for a second, tilting his head, mental gears grinding before a wide smile spread across his face. He gave a half shrug as he said, “Well, I guess I just have to sweeten the deal.”

Oh lord. 

Deadpool walked up to him, slung an arm around Peter's shoulders, and gave him a conspiratorial smirk. “What would you say to, in addition to the moola, some bonafide home made meals. I'm talkin' casseroles, lasagna, pizza straight out of a real wood fire oven, as far as the eye can see.”

Peter definitely didn't let out a bit of a whimper. He also was definitely _not_ drooling, even though after living off of box mac n cheese and ramen for years he would do many terrible and shameful things if promised a decent meal in the end. Welp, shit. That was an offer that really would be rather difficult to refuse.

“You are indeed a vile and wicked temptress.”

“I'm not hearing a no.”

Peter let out a sigh, allowing himself to feel all of the upcoming regret in one moment, before gritting his teeth and saying, “Fine. But I'm only coming for a bit, and I want cash, and I better get some damn fine lasagna.” 

Deadpool let out a cheerful squeal before clapping his hands together and telling him, “It's a deal babycakes!”

He then promptly placed a kiss on Peter's cheek, handed him a slip of paper with the address on it, and swiftly picked up the hydra agent while yelling something about party preparations. Peter shook his head a bit, making an attempt to clear his thoughts and refocus on his rounds, but holy crap Deadpool has a ten year old daughter and no one had said anything about it. He glanced down at the address, squinting at it when he realized it was in a relatively suburban area, and did a half shrug. Hey, if no one was dying and he was about to get paid, he supposed he couldn't really complain. He always had more of a chance to investigate on Tuesday. Deciding to push the thought to the back of his mind, he continued his rounds, hoping that he could maybe finish them early and get a decent amount of sleep that night.

~~~~  
All right, so, he may or may not have been wildly unprepared for today. Peter had no idea what to do as himself at a ten year old's birthday party, let alone as Spider-man. Was he supposed to bring a present? Was he supposed to bring something for all the kids? What did ten year olds even like? Glitter? One direction? Nerf Guns? Who knows? And was he supposed to have some sort of act prepared? Did he enter through the door or leap over the roof and kind of swoop in? Was he supposed to knock? Did he need to RSVP?  
Oh god he was so unbelievably out of his element why was he doing this again?  
_For thousands of dollars and some casserole._  
Right. Thousands of dollars and some casserole. That was as good of a reason as any, he supposed. Better than domination of the universe or annihilation of the human race, as far as reasons go.  
He settled for knocking, since friendly little neighborhoods weren't actually all that conducive to web-slinging. The only things to really attach to were telephone poles, which would end poorly pretty much no matter how he tried to go about it. He was glad most super villains weren't suburbanites. As he raised his fist to rap on the door, it swung open to reveal a rather, uhhh, good-looking blond smiling widely at him. He blinked at the man for a moment, not really sure how to proceed. Luckily, he didn't have to say anything, before the man threw his arms up and said, “Spidey! You showed! And you're just in time for cake!”

Wait. Hold up. He knew that voice.

“Deadpool?”

“Please, call me Wade. And duh, who else would it be?”

“You look, umm, different.”

“Oh shit, that's right, you haven't seen me wear the image inducer. It's just a little something I throw on whenever I have to interact with kids other than my own. Ellie doesn't really mind how I look, but either the mask or the au naturel face would probably freak out the other parents. You know, the residents really don't like having masked mercenaries in the neighborhood, weirdly enough. You would think they would appreciate something different but noooo it's all child endangerment this and oh god why is there blood that. The nerve of some people.”

“You look vaguely like Ryan Reynolds.”

“ExcUSE YOU. Ryan Reynolds looks vaguely like me.”

“Pretty sure Ryan Reynolds came before you.”

“Nuh uh.”

“Yeah huh. How old are you?”

Deadpool, er, Wade, gave this non-committal hand gesture and shrug and said, “Eh, probably like thirty. Seventy maybe? Twenty three if it's based on the date of your comic book debut, but that would make you like 52 so that's probably not it. Let's go with thirty.”

“So, yeah, Ryan Reynolds was a thing before you were a thing.”

“Huh. Damn. Wait, shit, there's cake to be eating what the hell are we standing here for?”

And with that, Wade turned his head and called out, “Yo kids! Spider-man's here! Come attack him just like we planned!”

Wait, what? Shitshitshitshit Wade really had planned something oh god was he about to die why had he believed the whole thing about a birthday party that was ridiculous. Peter got into a fighting stance, preparing to use webs on whatever came after him, before hearing a chorus of young war cries as several water balloons and Nerf pellets crashed into him. About eight children with maniacal grins and toy guns were assaulting him right now, and he couldn't help but crack up at the surprised looks on their faces as he used his webs to snatch the weapons from their hands.

“You guys would make terrible super villains.”

A girl waltzed up to him and held out her hand, smiling as she said, “Sorry Spider-man. We just had to make sure you were the real deal.”

A boy next to her looked off into the distance and solemnly whispered, “We've had bad experiences before.”

“See? Jeff over here knows what I'm talking about. We may have also attacked you because it sounded fun. My only regret is that we didn't have any silly string so you could've gotten a taste of your own medicine.”

“Hey! My webs are _way_ cooler than silly string.”

“Oh yeah? Silly string doesn't dissolve after an hour.”

“Silly string also doesn't have the tensile strength to hold up a human being or apprehend criminals or generally be helpful for spider-themed powers and I'm debating this with a ten year old.”

The girl smirked widely and said, “Yeah, you're definitely Spider-man.”

“And I'm assuming you're the birthday kid?”

“I am. Name's Ellie, if you didn't know that already.”

“I didn't, actually. Your father neglected to tell me.”

Ellie looked genuinely confused, shooting her father a slightly worried look, before saying, “Really? He usually refuses to shut up about me. You must make him flustered or somethin'.”

Peter stammered for a bit, because the thought of _anyone_ making Deadpool flustered was beyond belief, let alone himself. 

“Anyway kiddo, what do you want for birthday? The Big Ten O, must be hoping for some pretty cool stuff.”

Ellie paused for a moment, reflecting on the question before answering, “Well, I was mostly hoping for my dad to be here, for Spider-man to make an appearance, and a bouncy castle. I'm pretty satisfied. Though I wouldn't say no to some Pym particles.”

“Oh man you have a bouncy castle? Bouncy castles are my jam!”

“Uh uh, not right now. The bouncy castle can wait 'til after presents and cake 'cuz I'm the birthday girl and I get to decide things like that. Now come on I have to go blow out my candles.”

Peter kind of just held up his hands in surrender and laughed saying, “Of course. I would never say no to cake.”

When they headed out to the kitchen, Peter's jaw almost dropped when he saw the cake itself. It was eight tiers, intricately decorated with all sorts of things the ten year old must adore, and the bottom layer covered nearly half of the table it was sitting on. Everyone began to sing “Happy Birthday" as soon as Ellie walked in, and Wade had to pick up his daughter in order for her to be able to blow out the candles on top. She then immediately grabbed a handful of cake and smashed it into her dad's face. He immediately retaliated. With a wicked grin, she told him to put her down, grabbed a chunk of cake from the bottom layer, and called out “FOOD FIGHT.”

Peter should have known that his powers wouldn't keep him safe. Fast reflexes and the ability to cling to ceiling apparently had nothing on eight kids riding sugar highs and armed with frosting. He was going to be getting cake out of his suit for weeks to come. Once everyone was covered in multicolored sprinkles and chocolate frosting, the kids all started demanding that Ellie open her now cake-covered presents. Peter thought this was as good a time as any to sneak away, but Ellie wasn't having any of it, and dragged him over to the presents opening circle. At that moment Peter knew he wasn't going to make it to his chemistry class later in the day. 

The whole thing was a weird experience, weirder considering that this was a birthday party arranged by _Deadpool_ , but he would be lying if he said he wasn't enjoying himself. The kids were all obviously thrilled to have a real live superhero at the party, and he did his best to perform for them. He even ended up making something akin to a trampoline out of his webs, though he still wasn't quite sure how he had accomplished that. Kids climbed over him and constantly “attacked” him, which Wade did absolutely nothing to help, often them encourage them to fight the hero. Maybe that was what Wade was up to all along, raising an army of tiny super villains. Judging by all the questions that the kids interrogated him with, he wouldn't consider it that odd. 

Hell, even the adults got in on it, at least, the parents that weren't star struck. It was odd how many parents were saying things like that it was an honor to meet him or that they were amazed that it was actually him. Peter was grateful for his mask, because despite all the sarcastic confidence he was attempting to project, he was blushing hard at all the hero worship. That sort of treatment was expected for some one like Captain America or Iron Man, but he was just some dumb college kid that happened to get some powers and tried to do good with them. They respected him like they would a war hero, which he honestly didn't really know how to react to. He was a lot more used to being hated than praised. Guess they don't receive The Daily Bugle in the suburbs. Before he could stutter out his thanks at their appreciation, the kids usually dragged him away and allowed him to maintain his cocksure confident persona. 

It wasn't until he was sitting on a couch, drinking a Capri Sun, and watching The Lion King while answering the question “But who are you really?” for the nine thousandth time (he went with Odin uponthis occurrence. Previous answers included Tony Stark, Queen Elizabeth, and your mom because he was incredibly smooth and mature.) that he realized how incredibly late he had stayed. All the other kids had left with their parents, so it was down to him, Wade, Ellie, and someone she called “Aunt Emily.”

He wasn't really quite sure how he ended up in this position, just vaguely remembering something about and epic game of hide and seek and a triple dog dare. Considering that Ellie was already asleep, his suit was covered in grass, silly string, and cake stains, and that he was supposed to be back home like six hours ago but had been roped into a conversation about whether Mr. Fantastic or Elastigirl would win in a fight (everyone eventually conceded Elastigirl would be the victor), he figured it was time for him to go. Not really knowing how to exit, he kind of just cleared his throat, stood up, and mumbled, “I guess I should be leaving now.”

Wade, thank god, didn't give him any sort of grief, instead just telling him, “Wait, hold up” before grabbing a bundle of lasagna and a huge wad of cash and placing them in his hands. The man even gave him this weird half smile and told him, “Hey, a deal's a deal. Oh, and, um, I actually really appreciate you coming. I'm certain you made several kids' days today, especially my daughter, and I can't pay you enough. And, listen, any time you bored and looking to make some quick cash, feel free to stop by.”

Peter gave him a kind of awkward grimace that he hoped passed for a smile and shifted on his feet as he replied, “Oh, um, yeah. Sounds good. I'm, um, still gonna go now.”

“Sounds good. Thanks for coming, and enjoy the lasagna.”

Peter slowly walked out, making frequent glances back towards Wade, who continued to smile and wave him out and it was seriously starting to freak him out because this was not a version of Deadpool he had ever encountered before. Even as he had wandered from the house, changed his clothes into civilian gear, and made his way back into the city, he was still mulling it over. The man had acted polite and nice and reasonable and dad-like all evening. It was weird. It was like Wolverine smelling of lavender and vanilla. Not unpleasant, but unexpected nonetheless. He wasn't even sure Wade was the same guy as Deadpool. He looked different, he acted different, but Peter knew that from the few times they actually spoke during the party, there was something unshakably Deadpool about him. Plus it was totally the same voice as the one he had heard before, with scar tissue on the vocal chords and everything. So yeah, same guy, different context. Really different context.

But like he said, it wasn't bad in the slightest.. Hell, he might even stop by as Spider-man again. Not because he had grown attached to Ellie or anything, and definitely not because he curious, but because he could always use the cash. Obviously. It's certainly not like he would stop by for free.

Okay maybe he would.

But only maybe.

~~~

Wade had to muster up all of his very limited maturity to resist the incredibly strong urge to call out, “Hate to see you leave, but love to watch you go!” as Spider-man exited from his domicile. The only reason that he didn't do it is because it probably would have woken up Ellie, and the kid was already exhausted after an over-stimulating day. Still, that certainly didn't stop him from checking out the man's ass as he walked away, because damn did it look superior in that spandex, and the guy seemed too confused to even notice. He appreciated the view for a bit longer, before closing the door behind him and collapsing to the floor. Letting out a large groan, he turned his head towards Preston so he could start complaining. 

“Holy shit I'm tired. Fighting the Hulk was less draining than dealing with other parents. God, other parents are just the worst, you excluded. You would think it would be the kids that are difficult, but nooooo, kids are awesome. Seriously though Pres, please tell me you can use that super cool terminator body of yours to carry me upstairs because I do not feel like moving.”

“No, I can't, because you are a grown-ass man who will get up, take his daughter upstairs to her bed, and then come back downstairs. We have things to discuss.”

Wade turned away and let out a whine, refusing to get up as he said, “But Pressssttooooonnnn, I've already discussed things toddaaaayyy. I'm tired and all I did was discuss and it was awful.”

Preston folded her arms, shot him a glare, and simply said in her best mom voice, “Wade.”

Wade gave a derisive snort as he got up, grumbling out a “fine” as he willed his limbs to move despite himself. He grumpily, but carefully, lifted his daughter and carried her off to her actual bed before shuffling back downstairs and grabbing coffee while glaring at Preston.

“What do you wanna talk about? Can it be quick? It's late and I don't even wanna use words and articulate things right now.”

“Well, if you're not gonna be a stubborn jackass about things, it should take no time at all.”

Wade raised his finger and opened his mouth to have some sort of retort, but honestly he was exhausted enough that he immediately backed down and let out a deflated, “Yeah, okay. So what is it?”

“I'm afraid you might be smitten for Spider-man.”

He gave an over exaggeratedly offended gasp at the accusation, before saying, “Pfffffft. As if. First of all, no one fuckin says “smitten”, and secondly that guy is a _nerd_. Like, huge nerd. I mean, yeah, I'm mildly attracted to him, but I'm mildly attracted to like 80% of the humanoid population, and 100% of the Avengers, so it doesn't even count.”

Preston didn't look convinced or even mildly dissuaded. “Mm-hmm. Completely believable Wade. Look, it's not a problem if you don't make it a problem. It's honestly kind of endearing to see your little crush on the guy, but you better damn well not let it interfere with Ellie. You don't take missions from him, you don't let him endanger your family, and you don't neglect your parental responsibilities in favor of following him. You understand all that?”

“Yeah, duh, obviously. Jesus Pres, I barely know the guy, I'm not gonna throw away everything for him. Actually, I don't know him at all. I've teamed up with Spider-man a couple of times, and while it was fabulous and we formed memories that I know both of us will treasure forever, I don't know who he is under that mask. So yeah, nothing to worry about, _mom_. Can I go to bed now?”

She waved him off them, smiling softly and saying, “Yeah, yeah go to bed. I should probably head home as well, seeing as my kid and husband are probably wondering where the hell I am since they left two hours ago. Still, thought I'd just check. I worry about you.”

Wade gave let out a half laugh, half sigh as her told her, “I know. But you don't need to! I am totally, completely, absolutely fine and able to do this. Go see your family Preston, and I can get some sleep.  
Deal?”

“Deal.”

It wasn't until Preston was out of sight that Wade noticed he was trembling. The boxes were laughing cruelly at him, amused by the bald faced lie he had told her. Able to do this? No need to worry? Hilarious! Fortunately, the whole thing about not letting some ridiculous crush distract him was the truth. He didn't care how good that booty looked in that spandex, that certainly wasn't enough to make Ellie not a priority. In fact, she was his only priority. In the best way possible, she took precedence over everything else. Over his violent urges, over his greed and money worship, over his weird desire to be a hero despite acting like the villain, none of it held a candle to taking care of her. It was a good thing, he thought. Slowly but surely, he would perhaps be a better person after all, because he had to be in order to be a good dad. The belief that he could be was all he had left, and that was okay, because he didn't think that was a bad thing in the slightest.


	4. Missons

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tbh this chapter is mostly dialogue and set up for the next chapter. But, like, there's sass and pillow forts so hopefully it's worth it. Also Nick Fury makes a cameo at the end woo.

There was no school, Preston hadn't taken her for the weekend, and Wade certainly didn't have anything going on. It was the first time that Ellie and Wade had a full day to spend doing whatever the hell the two of them wanted. The only problem was trying to figure what the hell that was. They were currently mulling the situation at the kitchen table while drinking their mugs of hot coco despite the fact that it was like 80 degrees outside. Wade was the one who initially broke the sleepy silence. 

“So, Ellie, we have the entire day. What do you want to do?”

She gave a tired shrug as she told him the very exciting and inventive answer of, “I dunno.”

“Want to head out? The aquarium's supposed to be pretty kickass.”

“Eh I don't really wanna put on not pajamas. I like pajamas.”

“I hear that. I didn't really wanna put on real pants either.”

“So what do _you_ wanna do, Dad?”

“It's whatever you would like to do honey.”

She gave him a slight sneer and stuck out her tongue, telling him that it was a lame answer and demanding a better idea. Wade scanned his thoughts briefly before suggesting, “Giant pillow fort?”

“It has potential.”

“Game of 'Floor is Lava'?”

“Mmm, maybe.”

“Both at the same time?”

Gears turned for a few moments, before a wicked grin spread across her features and a twinkle lit in her eye.

“I don't know. I bet both would be happening because, say, we're the last two humans and we're trying to establish a home without being burned in a volcanic area.”

Wade utterly failed to not match his daughter's grin with his own as he, very seriously, told her, “I'm not sure about that. Who's to say both of us are actually human? Maybe one of us is actually an alien, sent to kill the other one so they can finally eradicate the human race for good, but they're in disguise.”

“Well if that were true, the alien, once discovered, would certainly have to go into hiding while the human looked for them.”

“And once they were found, there would almost _definitely_ have to be an epic showdown between the alien and the human.”

“Oh yeah. And who ever won would take the earth, invent lava proof shoes, and have unlimited ice cream for a week.”

“Oh would they now? For an entire week you say?”

“Well, duh, Dad, why else would you want to be supreme ultra overlord ruler of the universe? Also, which one of us is the alien?”

“Well, that's the true mystery, isn't it Ellie? I guess it would just have to be determined by whoever is acting the weirdest as the fort is getting built.”

Oh them's fighting words. Ellie's smirk grew wider, sticking out her hand and telling him, “You're on.”

He enthusiastically shook it, before crying out with glee, “I'll get the pillows!”

“Not unless you get some thicker socks because THE FLOOR IS LAVA!”

~~~

Three hours later, as Wade was balancing on a unicycle, wearing fake antennae, and shooting Nerf arrows at Ellie and trying to prevent the blankets on the ceiling from falling down and destroying the entire mission, the doorbell rang. Considering that Preston and her family were out of town and everyone else he'd be willing to talk to would call beforehand, he decided to take the executive decision of ignoring it. However, his daughter, being a better person than him, wouldn't allow that. As she was previously wearing a pirates hat, deflecting arrows with a Nerf sword, and giving a rousing speech about humanity's last stand on top of the couch, she paused, asking a concerned, “Shouldn't you get the door?”

“Nah. It's probably no one important.”

“ _Daaad_. Go answer the door.”

“Ugh, fine. Stupid daughter making me be all decent as person. Why do I even keep you?"

Refusing to lose “floor is lava pillow fort Nerf battle” to a ten year old, he wheeled over to the door, careful to avoid the numerous amounts of comforters and pillows that covered the main level of the house. Luckily, he was a unicycling champ because of reasons, so he was deftly able to navigate the perilous house and reach the door, only to reveal...

“Oh hey Spidey! Didn't know you were stopping by today. We haven't even arranged prices, but, hey, we can discuss that later. Any who, wanna come join the alien side of things? You'll have to wear mittens though, the whole “can stick to any surface” thing would be serious cheating in floor is lava, but you can help me defeat humanity and become supreme ultra overlord ruler of the universe. Maybe I'll even share the ice cream, who knows?”

From the back, Ellie called out “Nuh uh! He has to fight defending humanity. He's a superhero that's what they do! Duh!”

[She raises a valid point. That is pretty much their entire job description.]

{Oh my god shut up. If Spidey is on her team she's sure to win! Don't you want to be supreme ultra overlord ruler of the universe?}

_Guys, you do realize she's going to win no matter what?_

{What? No we can totally win this!}

[It's actually been a pretty balanced fight. You're a better shot than her and have more mobility, but she's got some killer defense and a passion that can only come from being the last of your kind, which is a dangerous quality. Still could go either way.]

_Yes, but she has the power of being adorable and the ancient spell known as “puppy dog eyes”. There's no weapon in my arsenal that can counter that._

{Oh man you're right she has this thing in the bag.}

[So why are you continuing this battle?]

 _Because it's way more fun that way. Duh._

“So, Spidey, what do ya say, wanna join in this epic battle for supremacy over the Earth?”

Spider-man gave him a slightly confused look, before shaking his head and saying, “I'm not quite sure what you're talking about or why you're on a unicycle, but we gotta talk.”

“Oh man, you're breaking up with me. I always knew this day would come, but I never thought it would be like this, so abrupt, so sudden. Why, oh why, Spidey? Why you gotta hurt me like that, and in front of the children no less? Well, child, but still, that's pretty low, you could've at least called or told me over a nice dinner.”

“What? No. Listen, Deadpool, I'm not here for a casual visit. You're needed for a mission, and since pretty much no one else knows where you live or what the hell happened to you, they sent me. I'm supposed to give you a debriefing -”

Wade gave him a wink and a smirk as he interrupted him with, “Oh Spidey babe, you can debrief me anytime.”

Spider-man let out the deepest of deep sighs, before placing his hand on his hip and sternly saying, “What I _meant_ was that I'm here to tell you the details of what you're needed for, and then head off on the mission. It's kind of a time sensitive issue, so if we could get going relatively soon, that would be great.”

Wade faked a serene nod, saying, “Oh alright. Well then in that case, no. You're still welcome to come inside, though be warned, the house is volcanic and touching the floor will result in your own demise,” before wheeling back into the living room. Spider-man followed him with a huff of frustration, ignoring the game, which resulted in Ellie crying out, “Ah man, you're dead Spider-man! Now you can't play with either of us.”

Spider-man cringed slightly at the girl's voice, ffeling extremely guilty when he saw the pout on her face, but tried to manage lightheartedness as he said, “Oh, hey, kiddo. Hey, um, do you mind if you put the game on hold for a bit? Gotta talk to your dad for a bit.”

Ellie dejectedly sat down, hat falling off and head in her hands as she said, “I guess I'm supposed to to my room too?”

Oh god now he felt really bad, especially considering what he was about to ask her father to do. With a mild grimace he replied, “Um, yes? Please. It would be good of you to do that.”

She sighed a bit, grabbing her Nerf sword and pirate hat, before jumping off the couch and dragging her feet upstairs, mumbling things about how he was cooler at the birthday party and how stupid missions and ruining everyone's fun. He found he couldn't really disagree. Still, once she was upstairs, he felt better about approaching Deadpool.

“So what did you mean by 'no'?”

Deadpool had hopped off of unicycle once the game had been indefinitely paused, and begun rummaging through the fridge. Finding nothing satisfactory, he stood up and faced Spider-man, saying, “Can I get you something? Tea, coffee, maybe an English tutor so you understand the meaning of the word no?”

“Yeah, no, I understand the meaning of it, just not the context. You haven't even heard about the mission.”

“Yeah, and I don't need to. If Deadpool is needed, and you can't talk about it in front of my kid, that means it's gonna be violent, bloody, and morally ambiguous, and I'd rather not. So yeah, I'm not going. Simple as that.”

“Deadpool, Wade, I don't think you quite realize how much you're needed. Plus, I thought you wanted to be a hero. This mission could provide you with an opportunity to do that.”

“Nah, really, I'm good. Kinda gave up on that whole “hero complex” thing awhile back and settled on anti-hero. Much more conducive to my tactics, wouldn't you say? Plus, I mean, Ellie still thinks I'm a hero, so that's more than good enough for me. However, if you're looking for some mighty fine pasta, I am quite the pro.”

“Wade, please, this mission really does require you. The Avengers, The X-men, The Fantastic Four, all of them are otherwise occupied, and those that aren't can't complete it. Most of them won't even touch it with a ten foot pole.”

“Yeah, sweet cheeks, I get it. They want me to do their dirty work. Been there, done that, 0 out of 10 would not recommend.”

“Jesus, Wade, would you just freaking listen for like two seconds? This is not about doing dirty work. No one has to die! However, no one else knows much about Butler, and you do. We're hoping that you know how to stop him, how to discontinue his research.”

“Butler? No way, I personally killed that asshole.”

“Yeah, you did, but that didn't stop his research. Apparently not all of his samples and notes were destroyed, and there's a very real chance that whatever left could potentially result in a project similar to Weapon X. We don't know who's carrying out his research, but we do know the institute where it's being conducted. No one can get in with out permission, creative and unique technological/magical barriers are in place, and almost everyone that would even be able to try are unavailable. Please, Wade, we really do need you.”

“Uggghhhhh. Seriously, though, why can't you just send in Wolverine. He's willing to kill, he has the same healing factor, minus cancer, plus claws and a metal skeleton that I am in no way jealous of, and he knows pretty much everything I knew.”

“Wolverine's dead.”*

“Shit, seriously?”

“You knew this.”

“Well, yeah, but it's been several weeks. He's usually alive by now. I didn't honestly expect the writer's to keep their cash cow dead that long. Huh. Also, still not going on this mission.”

“There is one other reason that I was sent to specifically find you. You were kind of, uh, personally invited inside. It was actually quite a nice invitation, lovely stationary, gorgeous calligraphy on the front, they really went all out. You should be flattered.”

“Can I see said invitation?”

Spider-man pulled the card out of one of his hidden pockets (Ha! Wade always knew the man had those. Probably stole the idea from him.), and handed it over. The guy wasn't lying when he said it was high quality, there was an embossed gold logo and everything. When he opened it up, handwritten in a pleasant cursive were the words, “ _Dear Mr. Wilson, also known as Deadpool, we are writing to cordially invite you to our institute. Since you have contributed so much to the laboratory, we will allow you and one guest of your choice to enter between the hours of 9am to 6 pm. You may come at your convenience. Address located on the back of this card._ ”

After carefully examining the card itself and mulling over the contents, he told Spider-man, “Oh yeah. Shit's a trap. And ya know, if you're trapped you have to fight your way out, which means killing your way out, and, shockingly I know, I'm _still_ not in the mood to put more blood on my hands.”

“But that's the point! You don't have to kill anyone! Hell, we're not even trying to attack anyone, we're just trying to get in, and you seem to be one of the only people that could actually manage to do that!”

“Not have to kill anyone? Why hadn't I tried that before?! That's so easy for you to say, isn't it? Well listen here Spidey, there's some shit that you don't quite seem to understand, and I'm going to try explain in very simple terms, and hopefully, at the end of this you'll back the fuck off, m'kay? So, from what I'm getting, the whole “with great power comes great responsibility” thing, combined with stuff like “everyone's life has value” and “people deserve second chances”, is kind of like your mantra, right? There's probably this little voice in the back of your head, I dunno, like a dead uncle's or something, that keeps reminding you of these things, that makes you pull your punches if they get too brutal, that makes you never cross certain moral lines. Am I wrong?”

“No. In fact, you're scarily accurate.”

“Okay, cool. I knew I had approximate knowledge of many things. So now, imagine that little voice isn't so little. It's screaming at you. Constantly. And there's two of these voices, neither of which sound like they're coming from the back of your mind, but more like two assholes are standing next to you and just _will not_ leave you alone. Also, they're not telling you things like “oh hey maybe lay off the stabbing” and more along the lines of “This guy is a worthless sack of shit just shoot him already” and “if you don't kill this scum bag, you should just kill yourself”. When feeling threatened, you have Spidey sense, I have two guys rallying for me to just get on with it and end someone's life. Now, sometimes these two voices are nicer/quieter, or at the very least, easier to ignore. One way is by listening to them. If I follow through with the violent urges, they tend to be sassier rather than cruel, and a couple of kills will usually calm them down enough that gaining back control is a hell of a lot easier, which made the mercenary thing a pretty sweet deal. I wasn't exactly happy, but, you know, I could at least pretend I was having fun. The other option is what I'm attempting to do now. Get in a calmer environment, settle down, basically, run away and never go back. Here, neither of them are demanding too much violence, they're even kinda quiet. I mean, yeah, they're still not helping with the self loathing, but they're....manageable, right now. And in a lab where I get to see my living nightmare recreated for other people, that's not exactly what I would call a real stable environment. So, yeah, long story short, can't we just switch costumes and send you into investigate? Costume swapping has worked like 90% of the times that we've teamed up. Plus, you know how much I enjoy getting into your pants.”

“I've kind of...already...tried that. Turns out, they're very specific about who they want coming in, and considering you're about four inches taller and forty pounds heavier than me, they saw through it.”

Wade made an expression that could only really be described as “buffering” before letting out a snort of laughter as he processed the information. 

“I always knew you were a fangirl, Spidey!”

“What are you talking about?”

“You have a spare costume of mine! You probably sewed it yourself and made the patterns custom and showed it off at all the cons. You cosplay me! Truly, I flattered by your devotion, that is just so sweet of you.”

Man, Wade desperately wished that he could see under that mask right now, because judging by the way that Spider-man was sputtering out a response, the nerd was probably blushing furiously like the kawaii piece of shit that Wade imagined him to be. 

“Wha-? No, shit, I mean, it was at Stark tower, it wasn't mine, I just, I...Wade can we get back to the topic at hand?”

“Yeah Dad, this is serious.”

And with that, they both whipped their heads to the living room, where they found a utterly guilty looking Eleanor standing at the edge of the door. She tried to give her best “I'm so cute how can you be mad at this face” look, but that didn't stop the adults from continuing to glare at her. For a moment, she forgot to be terrified of punishment to ponder how the heck Spider-man managed to change expressions on his mask, before shaking the thought from her head and trying to come up with a reasonable distraction from her being super busted for listening in. 

“I think you should go.”

Both of them yelled out a surprised “What?!” to which she smoothly responded to by nodding vigorously.

“Yeah! I know it would be kinda hard Dad, but you should do it. Because these are the people that hurt my mom, and they also hurt you, and they're gonna hurt more people. So you hurt them back. And you stop them so they can't hurt anyone else, and you're really good at that. So you should go.”

Wade gave a small smile that beguiled the fact that his kid was too damn much like him, especially for a ten year old, as he said, “Yeah, but honey, your dad isn't very good about making sure that only the people that need to be stopped are hurt, and sometimes he hurts them more than he should.”

“Oh, I know. Buuuuuuuuuut, the invitation said you could bring a guest. You should take Spider-man, and then he can help you out, and you'll stop all the bad people together.”

Wade turned back to Spidey, giving a questioning look, to which the man responded with the half shrug half nod gesture as if to signal that it wasn't exactly a terrible idea. Wade gave a resigned sigh, clearly starting to be talked into going on this mission, but he still weakly countered, “Some one would have to watch you, and Preston's not available, and there's not exactly a whole lotta people I trust, 'specially since Spidey's comin' with me.”

“So call Bob. It's not like he can really mess up anything.”

“Ellie, how do you even know about Bob? After all, he's really more of a reserve friend.”

“Dad, he's come over like four times. He was at my birthday party.”

“Was he? Huh, I did not remember that. Anyway, you're only suggesting him because he'll let you get away with anything.”

“ _You_ already let me get away with anything. Don't you get obstinate with me young man, go on your mission,” Ellie said with her best “disapproving parent” voice. 

Wade groaned like a chastised teenager, before saying, “ _Fine._ But if I go, you're officially forfeiting this battle and losing those ice cream rights.”

“Deal. Though I would say it was more of a compromise than a forfeit, as we both decided that we would give up the title of supreme ultra overlord ruler of the universe in favor of having fun on the earth together rather than winning and being alone. Duh. And YOU!,” she suddenly turned on Spider-man, pointing an accusing finger at him and giving a suspicious look, to which he immediately held up his hands in surrender and confusion.

“You gotta make sure my dad comes back in one piece. We have a scheduled post battle dance party, and we're finally gonna play “Shake It Off” obnoxiously loud enough to bug the neighbors, and this mission of yours better not stop that from happenin' , alrightie, Spidey?”

Spider-man gave an overstated salute, confidently replying with, “Understood, Captain! Any further instructions?”

Ellie pondered for a moment, before giving a satisfied smirk, and telling him, “Nope, I'm satisfied with your service.” 

The doorbell then rung, which startled Wade and Spider-man, but Ellie just smirked and said, “And that should be Bob, so you guys can go on your big cool mission starting now.”

Wade gave a skeptical glare at his daughter while beginning to walk over to the door. Giving her the universal “I'm watching you” gesture, he opened up the door to find Bob standing in his uniform, carrying take out boxes. 

“Bob? What the hell are you doing here?”

“Your daughter called, sir. She told me you wanted Chinese food. Shoul..should I leave I'm sorry I thought she had your permission oh god I'm sorry.”

“No, Bob, it's cool, calm down. Come in, I guess.”

Wade motioned for Bob to enter, and after the man had, he spun on his heel to stare down his daughter, who was holding her hands behind her back, standing on her tip toes and smiling sweetly at him.

“You! Kid! Explain.”

She gave this kind of half shrug as she widened her eyes and raised the pitch in her voice, playing the young and innocent card as best as she could manage. 

“No big deal Daddy, it's just that Nick Fury called earlier this morning and said Spider-man was going to come over for this secret super important mission, and I told him I'd take care of it. So I just did some stuff so that'd you be ready to go. See, I'm just being helpful.”

He squinted suspiciously at his daughter, who just continued to give him the “precious darling” look. He squinted harder at her, before saying, “I can't tell if you're brilliant or terrifying.”

She grin widened as she replied with, “Your costume is upstairs.”

He nodded, before quickly running upstairs to change into his Deadpool suit. Ellie looked smug as hell, and it didn't exactly lessen her ego when Spider-man smirked and gave her a high five. He then kind of stood up and looked impressed, asking, “How the heck did you do that? I've never known Deadpool to listen to anyone.”

She gave a satisfied look, tossed her hair, and said, “It's because I'm _adorable_. Gives me quite the advantage.”

She then smacked her head in a kind of “duh” moment, before turning to Bob and saying, “That's right! You! You're gonna be babysitting me while these two go off on an adventure, okie doke? Oh, and thanks for the Chinese food. One question though, how good are you Mario kart?”

Bob's eyes widened as he gave a bit of a gulp, half terrified of babysitting Deadpool's daughter, but before he could say anything about it, Wade was already out in his uniform and armed with a copious amount of weapons. He triumphantly swaggered down the stairs before raising a kantana in the air and cheering, “Spidey! At dawn, we ride!”

Ellie gave her best shooing motion at the two of them, motioning out of the door while telling them, “If by dawn you mean right now then you are absolutely correct. Now go on, you two crazy kids go have fun on your little mission, I'll be here with Bob. Spider-man, have him back before midnight, and don't do anything I wouldn't do!”

Spider-man and Deadpool had just been forced out of a house by a ten year old girl. What a day. Wade shrugged it off, turned to Spider-man, and said, “So you ready to go?”

“Yeah, I suppose. Our transport is right around the corner.”

“Well then, after you.”

Spider-man was not wrong. Parked a few blocks down from his house was a waiting jet. Nick Fury was standing in the opening, glaring slightly at the two of them. 

“Wilson! It's about damn time you showed up.”

Wade spread out his arms in a mock welcoming gesture, before adopting a heavy New York accent and replying with, “Nickie boy! Sorry it's been awhile, but ya know, been busy with some very 'portant work here and there. Nice touch with the spider lad, he's real good at convincin' me a doin' all kinds a things, ain't that right baby boy?”

Spider-man let out a deep groan at Wade's behaviour, which did absolutely nothing to dissuade him from continuing, but before he was allowed to speak, Fury hollered, “Deadpool, you will get your ass into this vehicle and then sit down and shut up, or I can arrange for you to meet a fate worse than death. _Do I make myself clear?_ ”

“Fury, please. My _life_ is a fate worse than death. But, like, I got stuff to do, so why don't you go ahead and tell me what ya gotta tell me, 'cause I have this whole thing going on that requires boom boxes and sequinned pants later tonight, and I do _not_ want to miss that.”

Fury gave him a blank stare, before letting out a sigh in recognition that the mercenary was impossible to deal with and filling in the rest of the details. 

“You understand this is not a typical mercenary mission. You're going in, looking around, and getting your ass back to whatever hole you're currently curled up in before you cause too much trouble. We're lookin' for intel, not blood, and, unfortunately, you seem to be one of the only people that could even potentially enter. Trust me, if we could've sent Black Widow, we would've, but we're relying on you Wilson, so don't fuck up.”

Wade nodded and strode into the jet, making an appreciative whistle at the cushy interior, looking back at Fury and telling him, “Man, this place is niiiiiccceee. You really don't know how to take in a place until you were invited in rather than having to pull off some pretty nifty lock picking tricks.”

Fury made the incredibly wise decision to not question it any further, instead turning over to Spider-man and saying, “Thanks for your help kid. Figured you would be one of the few that could convince him to come. Feel free to go home.”

Spider-man shuffled on his feet, giving Fury a half shrug as he replied with, “I'm, um, kind of going to go with him. We both thought it would be good if I acted as his “plus one” and I could keep a watch on him, you know, keep him out of trouble.”

“Mmm-hmm. Because keeping out of trouble has always been your speciality. Still, you're practically a responsible adult next to Deadpool, so I'll let it slide.”

“Thanks Fury, you're the best.”

“I know.”

The rest of the ride was relatively uneventful, with Wade managing to only break three glasses and Fury only threatening to erase either of their existences about four times, which was actually a record low for the both of them when confined to a small inside space. Spider-man tried to play diplomat a few times, but after awhile he just sat in the corner and played chess with himself in order to avoid an un-winable battle. About 45 minutes later, the plane had landed, Spider-man and Deadpool had been kicked out, and Fury had flown off to some undisclosed location. However, it wasn't exactly a mystery where they were supposed to go considering they were standing next to a large conglomeration of glass and cement, with a rather large sign that read “Scientific Institute of Excellent Progress” which in absolutely _no_ way sounded completely made up by some fan-fiction writer at 11 o'clock at night. Spidey and Deady both looked rather unimpressed, but after a momentary pause, a huge arsenal of programmed weaponry revealed itself and was pointed at the two of them. Luckily, nothing fired at them, and a pleasantly generic female voice came over the speakers saying, “Please state your name.”

They looked at each other, Spider-man saying, “Hey man, it was your invitation,” which resulted in Deadpool looking around and saying, “Uhh, Wade Wilson?”

Some of the weapons receded, though the ones aimed at Spider-man held true, so Wade added, “And guest.”

All of the weapons folded inwards, disappearing into the side of the building, and the voice announced, “Please confirm identity,” as an eye scanner slid forward. Hesitantly, Wade pulled up his mask and looked into the device. After a few seconds of scanning, the screen lit green and the doors opened, the voice telling them, “Welcome, Wade Wilson and Guest.”

They both stepped into the previously impenetrable building, but before they even had a chance to look around, someone standing overhead said, “Deadpool, welcome! Thank you for dropping by the institute, we have so much to show you. I'm glad Spider-man came as well, I'm sure he'll want to see our progress as much as you do.”

Wade and Spider-man both whipped their heads in the direction of the speaker, only to come face to face with one Joshua Utler, the supposedly estranged and supposedly dead brother of Butler,looking much more evil and much more alive than Wade had previously remembered.

Welp.

At least this was going to be interesting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _*Quick Note: if Wolverine happens to be alive at the time of reading this, please replace “dead” with “been abducted by Skrulls” or “is busy fixing the time-space continuum that he happened to break in the first place” or whatever convenient excuse you find most preferable ~ Thanks, DP_


	5. Experiments

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shit goes down

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh man sorry this update took so long. However, as a reward for you patience, this chapter is extra long and extra emotional, so that's cool. Warning: this chapter is kinda brutal. This is the chapter where the "major character death" tag becomes relevant. It's cool though. Things are fine. Also canon typical violence and atypical amount of swearing. Gotta earn that teen rating somehow.

“What the fuck?”

Oh yeah, Wade's murder senses were tingling hard. Never trust a dude that pretends to not be involved in his asshole's brother's experiments, fake his own death, and then show up a couple years later wearing a suit and owning a super secret scientific institute that continues his brothers line of research. That just screams all kinds of sketchy. But before the edges of his vision could start to go red and stay red, Spidey leaned over to him and whispered, “I'm sorry, but I feel like I'm missing out on a big reveal here. Did I miss something? Who is this guy?”

“His name's Joshua Utler. He's the brother of Butler, who experimented on/manipulated me for years. He claimed to have no involvement in Butler's work, and was acting as the adoptive father of Ellie. That is, until he 'died' of a heart attack. Yet here he is, alive and incredibly evil seeming.”

“Oh okay, thanks for clearing that up.”

Spider-man then raised his hand until Joshua gave him a look of acknowledgement, to which he lowered his hand and stated, “Let the record show that I second Deadpool's motion of 'What the actual fuck?'”

Joshua gave a light chuckle in place of an actual answer, and motioned for the raised platform he was standing on to lower to their level. God, what a _douche_. He spoke to them with an air of nonchalant superiority as he said, “Do not worry. I assure you that in due time all of your questions will be answered. Please, follow me.”

Joshua strode off into the distance, and with a flick of his hand, the walls slid open to reveal a corridor with several glass rooms on either side containing lab equipment and various people running around in lab coats. The hallway appeared practically endless, not revealing where one experiment ended and another began. Spider-man and Deadpool shared a look of “can you believe this guy?” before Spidey strode ahead to face Joshua. He placed his hands on his hips and did a whistle of appreciation, telling the man, “Well, I have to say, I _am_ impressed.”

“I'm very glad to hear that. Our research is really quite extensive, and has much potential for the future of man kind. With endorsement from a superhero such as yourself, I'm sure this institute could-” 

“Wait, hold up, I wasn't finished. I was just gonna say: the completely white rooms that feel sterile and uninviting, all the hidden entrances, the security, the propaganda covering the walls, and the obviously fake research to hide whatever moral atrocities are actually being done in the name of “science”, it all screams very mad scientist. Most guys take at least three tries before they really have that whole “super villain” aesthetic down, but you got it on the first go. Four for you Glen Coco. You go Glen Coco.” 

Joshua's confusion was for but a fleeting moment as he recomposed himself and gave Spider-man a polite smile. 

“I assure you, our research is entirely legitimate. What you see before you is our current projects, we have hidden nothing from you. We strive only for the betterment of mankind and contribute to the eradication of cancer, and perhaps even-” 

Deadpool let out a prolonged groan to interrupt the man, before saying, “Oh my god even your lies are boring. I've heard the whole 'betterment of mankind' monologue from like seven different guys in the past month. Seriously dude, come up with some new material.” 

Spider-man jumped in, stating, “Honestly, no one is gonna buy that this is everything being done. I mean, the science being done in there is about as advanced as checking the pH of a backyard pool. Trust me, I would know.” 

Deadpool smirked viscously at Joshua, before moving at a rapid pace to place a blade against the man's throat. Voice turning gravelly and deep, he told the man, “Now how about you start tellin' us some truth before I do something that you would deeply regret." 

“Deadpool! I said no killing!” 

His voice took on a much more jovial quality as he turned to Spider-man, responding sweetly with, “Aw, hon, I never my little interrogation was going to be to the death. I was thinking more 'to the pain'.” 

He then turned back to Joshua, blade still against his throat as he told him, “To the pain means that the first thing you will lose will be your feet below the ankles. Then your hands at the wrists. Next your nose.” 

“Oh my god. You are _not_ doing the 'to the pain' speech from _The Princess Bride_.” 

“Oh come on Spidey, dumb pop culture references are kind of my thing.” 

“No they aren't! They're _my_ thing. You ripped that off just like you stole my suit.” 

“Pssh, everyone knows I'm a blatant rip-off of Deathstroke, not you.” 

“Who?” 

“Oh, right, you have no idea what the DC comic universe is. Whatever, doesn't matter.” Deadpool looked back at the still pinned Joshua and said, “Anyway, as I was saying before Buttercup over here interrupted me, you either give me complete access to this place, gritty underground crimes against humanity and all, and I'll consider not removing parts from your body with this nice shiny pointy thing. Sound good?” 

_Joshua gave a bit of a scowl, but instead of protesting, he begrudgingly commanded, “Computer, give Wade Wilson permission to full facilitates.”_

Deadpool pulled back and helped the man up from his cowering position before patting his back, as if they were dudes just bein' dudes rather than (potential) mortal enemies. 

“Thanks man, I appreciate a guy that doesn't make me maim him while on a pro bono case. Really, there's gotta be some better people to dull my blade on in due time, and I would hate to waste any real good one liners on you.” 

Deadpool strode back as Joshua stood up, taking Spider-man's arm in his own as he said, “Whaddya say, should we have fun stormin' the castle?” 

Spider-man smirked at him, puffing out his chest slightly and replying, “Of course. Though let's be clear, I'm definitely Wesley.” 

“Oh please Bambi, you know you're the princess here. I bet you got these big ol' eyes and delicate features to go with the whole 'pure of heart' Disney image you've been going for all these years” 

“Maybe, maybe not. You have no clue what I look like. However, I happen to know for a fact that you'd be the one to run around in a long flowing dress.” 

“Yes, but you just scream 'Damsel in Distress' who needs a big strong Deadpool to save you from your mopey 'I will never love again' bullshit.” 

“Hey! I've held my own against hero and villain alike. I'm not some delicate little flower, and I am not mopey. ” 

“Not delicate! One well-placed bullet, one well timed explosion, one too high fall, and you're out! For Christ's sake Spidey you can _DIE_!” 

Something had shifted in the air, gone was the jokingly argumentative tone, only to be replaced with what almost sounded like....genuine concern? Nah, couldn't be. He wasn't someone worth being concerned over. Really. He had gone up against a lot in his decade of crime-fighting, yet here he was, alive and unscathed. (Admittedly, he had temporarily died a couple of times, but he always came back, so really, no harm no foul.) 

“Uhhhh...should we get on with the investigation?” 

Deadpool's face was set and hardened, scarily deep in thought, though only for a fleeting moment. He shoke off whatever was troubling, returning to his ever present grating cheerfulness. 

“Sure thing sweetums! Computer, please open _all_ entrances within the interior of this building.” 

As requested, several hidden openings revealed themselves, showing off various hallways, stairwells and even a few supply closets. All except one. At the end of the hall, the smallest doorway led to nothing but endless blackness, refusing to betray whatever lied within. Jackpot. 

“Well that certainly looks like the most suspicious area. Let's go for it Spidey!” 

Joshua spread out his arms in a halting manner, slightly startling both of them with a ferocious “NO!” and stalling any further progress towards the doorway. 

“I am sorry Mr. Wilson, but I cannot allow you to enter that room. Especially not unsupervised. There is some rather delicate research being conducted in there, and any sort of disturbance would greatly hinder our entire project!” 

Spider-man gave an unimpressed look at Joshua's attempt to be authoritative, before folding his arms at the man and saying, “Yep, that's definitely the closet where they store their skeletons. Come on Deadpool, let's go shed some light on their misdoings.” 

“Ugh. This whole things sounds all noble and heroic when you say it. Super lame. But, yeah, whatever you said.” 

The two of them barreled past Joshua's small frame, ignoring his pleas and protests and promptly marching towards the end of the hall. 

That was a moment before Joshua called out, “Step through that door and you will never see your daughter again!” 

Deadpool stopped dead in his tracks, causing Spider-man to nearly run into him in an attempt to come to a complete halt. Instead of turning around to question Joshua, he just took a cellphone from a pouch and began to curse under his breath. The signal had been blocked. He had gotten who knows how many calls from Bob, yet remained completely oblivious to the situation. He spun on his heels, wordlessly striding up to Joshua and standing close enough to tower over the man. Without an ounce of emotion in his voice, he asked, “Where is she being kept?” 

“I'm sorry but I cannot disclose..” 

“Why did you take her?” 

“Partly leverage, partly to take blood samples..” 

“Why blood samples?” 

“She could hold the key to everything. We think she may be even more extraordinary than yourself. All we needed was a few select tissues...” 

Deadpool didn't stay to listen, instead telling Spider-man to “stop looking like a slaw-jawed idiot and hurry the fuck up already” before striding off. The second he had turned his back, Joshua called out “Guards!”. Hundreds of henchmen poured in from every entrance, overwhelming the two of them with sheer numbers and 

**Hey writer.**

Wait, what? ….. Anyway, the henchmen were pouring in and 

**Writer. Hey. Listen to me.**

Me? 

**No, the other obsessive teenage girl writing fan-fiction instead of doing her homework or sleeping, _yes you_.**

How the hell did you -? 

**Bruh, seriously? It's me. Breaking the fourth wall is _kind of_ my shtick. Anyway, could you just point out which opening I have to go through to most efficiently find my daughter, assuming she's on site?**

Well, uh, I guess just take the one on the left, dead center of the hallway.

**All right, thanks. Go ahead and get back to your story-tellin' thing.**

Welp. That was weird. Anyway, uh, yeah. Spider-man was pretty much certain that they were outnumbered, and frankly, screwed, but he hadn't accounted for Deadpool's ruthlessness in the matter. And holy shit, Deadpool. Was. _**Terrifying.**_

When the man felt nothing but blind determination, it was truly a horrific sight to behold. Deadpool cut and sliced through the crowd quickly enough to keep a jogging pace, despite the fact that the odds were _several hundreds_ to one. He was single-handedly destroying an entire army without any killing, just removing enough bits and pieces to stop his next assailant from advancing. Lord knows how many bullets were plunging into him, to which he gave no notice. He stared straight ahead, not even needing to aim as henchmen rushed him, and he sliced off hands. 

>All of this Spider-man could process, he always knew the Merc' was skilled, but what chilled him down to the core was that as they were fighting, Deadpool was utterly _silent_. No jokes, no levity, no nonsense. This was not the Crimson Comedian or Regeneratin' Degenerate. Hell, this man wasn't even Wade Wilson. Spider-man was currently fighting beside was a one man nuclear warhead. Stone cold, emotionless, and programmed for violence. Usually when Deadpool was being referred to, it was with an air of annoyance or disgust. However, Spider-man had heard the occasional hushed tones that spoke of him only with a combination of fear and reverence, and now, well, now he understood. Threaten the ones he loves, and Deadpool turns into a living weapon of mass destruction.

Spider-man made a quick mental note to never _ever_ piss Deadpool off that much (If he even he was pissed. Who could tell? The usually expressive man was entirely unreadable. Eerie didn't even begin to describe it.) as he tried to hold his own against the henchmen. Now, he wasn't exactly a bad fighter himself, but the plan was less “heck yeah I'll back you up bro” and more “follow Deadpool's wake of destruction”. Deadpool didn't need the help and wasn't looking for a team-up. Still, there was no way in hell that Spider-man was going to leave him alone, as the man was about three seconds away from going full-blown supernova. And frankly, Spider-man being, well, Spider-man couldn't exactly let that happen. Plus, it had kind of become a rescue mission at this point, and if he was being 100% honest with himself, he had gotten attached to Ellie, and wanted to ensure her safety. 

Spider-man didn't know how long they had been fighting or how many corridors, experiments, and suspicious looking rooms they had passed by when the swarm finally let up. It could've been minutes and it could have been hours. Luckily, the one or two stragglers opted to run away rather than try to go up against either of them. Spider-man let out a sigh of relief, and being a little freaked out by how easy that level of violence had been for Deadpool, he attempted to bring some levity to the situation by cracking a (really) dumb joke (Bad guys? More like bad shots amirite?!). However, Deadpool continued to march on, not acknowledging Spider-man's existence. No enemies, no one to fight, and he was still freakishly quiet. It was goddamn creepy, but Spider-man did not want the mercenary to turn on him, so he kept his mouth shut. About fifteen minutes later, they were storming down a railway that served as a bridge between two areas, darkness and abyss on either side of them. All in all, it had a very “Death Star” feel to it. The one bright side, however, was that they noticed a small girl in front of them, sitting on the floor and her feet dangling over the side, and quietly humming “Toxic” by Britney Spears. 

Deadpool went from emotionless robot to Dadpool in about, oh, 0.0 seconds, as his face broke into an animated grin and he cheerfully spread out his arms, saying, “Hey sweet pea! How's my favorite girl in the whole wide world!?”

>Ellie's head whipped towards her dad. Upon seeing him, she hurriedly got up and ran towards him, squealing out an elated “Dad! You're Here!” as she jumped into his arms.

He held her on one of his hips as if she was a much younger child, smiling down at her when he replied, “Hell yeah I am! Was this where they were keepin' you this whole time?”

She enthusiastically shook her head no, explaining, “Nah. They tried to keep me in a lab, but when the guy went for a blood sample, I kicked him in the nuts and ran. I don't really know how I got here though. Glad you showed up Dad, I didn't know what to do next.”

“That's my girl! Up top!”

Ellie giggled at the high five, and Spider-man just smiled and shook his head slightly. Like father like daughter, he supposed. It was still weird to think that this man now currently jovially discussing cartoons with his ten year old daughter was the same guy that was swiftly removing people's limbs by the hundreds, but that violent nature didn't really need to be brought at this exact moment. 

Ellie brought it up anyway. While still being held, she pointed to Wade's chest with a concerned look. Not an unfounded concern, considering that he was riddled with bullet holes and there were bloodstains covering his costume. She looked up at him with wide eyes, asking with a touch of fear, “Dad? Are you okay?”

Deadpool continued to smile as he made wiggly gesture with his free hand and said, “This? It's just a flesh wound!”

If Ellie was amused by the reference, she didn't show it. Instead, she skeptically raised an eyebrow, to which Deadpool just smiled more sincerely and says, “Seriously, I'm fine. I told you, freakin' Wolverine is jealous of my healing factor. I'm basically unstoppable.”

Ellie looks (mostly) satisfied with that answer, and the three of them decide to discuss Monty Python, despite the ten year old being just, like, way too young for it.

Things were all right, comfortable enough that it was easy to forget they were in the middle of a mad scientist's lair. 

In short, they let their guard down. This was a mistake.

While they were chatting and putting one foot in front of the other, they failed to notice that a lone henchman had found them. A shot was fired, and Deadpool instinctively whipped out his gun and shot the guy between the eyes. Oops. So much for no killing. Hid bad.

It had happened all within a matter of seconds, that he didn't realize...

he didn't....

The guy was aiming for him, targeting him.

Several seconds passed before his brain finally recognized that the blood on his chest wasn't his own. He collapsed to his knees as he heard the shuddering, uneven breaths. In utter shock, he looked over to the girl in his arms, a splotch of red blossoming directly above her heart

The shot was meant for him. 

Ellie's eyes were pointed in his direction, but it was clear that she was looking through him, not at him. Her breath went from shuttered to punctuated, the pause between each breath increasing with every passing moment.

He was completely on the floor now, holding his daughter as close to his chest as he could, kissing her forehead, trying to reach her, trying to make sure she was still there. He wanted to tell her to hold on, that things were going to be okay, that she needed to stay, but she couldn't register it, and he couldn't say it. Instead, he only repeatedly whispered, “ _No_.”

Logically, he knew the moment he looked into her eyes that she was gone. Jesus FUCK she was already fucking gone before he had even fucking noticed that his own goddamn daughter was fucking dying in the first place god FUCKING dammit.

The shot was meant for him.

Still, it wasn't until the breathing stopped all together, that her pulse forever halted, that her body went limp and her head rolled, exposing eyes without an ounce of light in them, that “death” truly registered in his mind. 

Ellie was dead. He was useless. He couldn't do anything. He was fucking useless.

The shot was meant for him.

This was his fault. He killed his daughter. He killed the one person, the one thing, that actually fucking mattered. And he couldn't do a goddamn thing. He couldn't move, he couldn't start, he couldn't even fucking _cry_. His daughter was fucking _dead_ , it was his fucking fault, and there wasn't a single goddamn tear. _FUCK._

So instead of doing anything, he did nothing. He just fucking sat there, hoping he would stay there until he starved. He sat, and he stared, and he felt every fiber of himself being torn to shreds. He should be killing someone. He should be seeking vengeance, or finding a way to fix it, or at the very fucking least he should be _fucking crying_ , but he couldn't even manage that. 

He was empty. He was shattered. He was nothing. 

Spider-man was being kind. Telling him softly and cautiously that they should be getting out, that they can find a way to help her, that they can make this better but first they need to leave.

If he could still hate, he would hate the man, for being kind to him. For being kind to a man that killed a ten year old girl. Being kind to a man that killed his own daughter.

Because the shot was meant for him.

Instead he just nods in what appears to be acknowledgement, and even manages to even half stand, Ellie still in his arms. 

That's as far as he manages. He still can't cry, and he immediately crashes to the floor once more, muscles refusing to hold the weight of an abomination. Spider-man's saying words around his head, but he can't hear them, can't respond.

His daughter wasn't the only one to die.

 

Then he feels something metal in his hand. This stirs up something in his mind, gears start to turn groggily in place. He shifts Ellie's body so that he is able to look at the object in his hand.

It's the bullet. The bullet that shot her. Which means that her body had expunged it.

An unprecedented surge of hope shot through his body, repairing just enough of himself that he could take the action to look her over. While her t-shirt remained bloodstained, the wound above her heart was slowly closing. It was healing. She was healing. After a moment or two, her chest began to rise and fall, a pulse could be felt in her wrist, and color flooded her face. Her eyelids rose, and when she looked in his direction, she was looking at him, not through him. When she smiled at him briefly, Wade began to mend, his own patchwork psyche starting to function again. He eventually noticed that his mask was soaked, and, goddamn, he could finally fucking cry. 

Ellie inhaled sharply before succumbing to a rasping cough. After a few moments, her breathing returned to normal, but she didn't look particularly pleased. The coughing fit probably hurt like hell considering that, as of about thirty seconds ago, she had a gaping chest wound. However, instead of complaining, she just looked up slightly puzzled at her father and said, “Man, I had the weirdest dream.”

Holy shit. She probably didn't know that she had even died. Wade, instead of bursting out in a hysterical fit of laughter like he was about to, just smiled and said, “Oh? What happened?”

She scrunches up her face, pausing momentarily, before saying “Um, well, there was this girl that was about my age, but she wasn't really a girl, I think. Her face was white and patterned, like a Dia de los Muertos mask, and she wore a black hood. Her arms were like a skeleton, and her dress was in tatters and, uh, flowy, and I'm pretty sure she didn't have feet? She was really nice an' everything, and we hung out for a bit, but then she told me it was time for me to go back, and I woke up.”

“Huh. You're right, that is kinda weird.”

_Holy shit she saw Death. Crap._

“Hey Dad?”

“Yeah sweetheart?”

“I don't feel too good. It kinda hurts to breathe, but, like, I'm good.. I just don't feel super up for a dance party, is that okay?”

Wade smiled down at his daughter, letting out a slight huff of laughter. God, she was such a great kid. She had just been freaking _shot_ and she was concerned about a dance party. 

“No worries. How about we head home and get some pizza?” 

“Mmm-hmm.”

“Ellie, it's okay if you go back to sleep. I'll carry you home.”

She let out a mumbled, “Thanks Dad,” before nuzzling her head into his chest, peacefully falling asleep, her breath remaining steady and consistent.

His legs were able to move again. He could function again. He felt a surge of relief that stitched up some of the damage that had just been dealt to his mind. The relief was tinged with and underlying fear and worry, but he couldn't reflect on it at this moment. He focused on getting out, on retracing steps, on making sure that there were no other threats in the building. Joshua was probably suffering at this moment, as the time release aconite that Deadpool had planted on him was quickly leeching into his skin and poisoning the man. No one else would have to be hurt by Joshua, even if it meant Deadpool had amassed more blood on his hands.

And then there was the small matter of what to do with Spider-man. Poor kid. Obviously didn't know quite what he was signing up for when he proposed a team up mission. Still, Deadpool would be lying if he said he wasn't grateful for the guys presence. He tried to reassure the younger man, chatting lightly with him as they navigated the institute in search of an exit. He tried to talk about the weather, about whatever menial show he could think of, just anything that wasn't _real_ , wasn't significant or important. Still, he hadn't started making obscene jokes or just generally not shutting up until the guy got fed up with him, so that was a plus.

Spider-man actually was grateful for the chatting. He knew that the man holding his daughter was occupied with other things, but the fact that he wasn't silent was good in of itself. They kept the conversation light, him bitching about school, Deadpool bitching about his neighbors, and while it was mostly just small talk, it was at least _something_. God, a few weeks ago, Deadpool's incessant talking would've driven him up a wall. Now, well, he needed to do everything in his power to make sure the man was never silent again.

Luckily, the rest of their journey to the exit went smoothly. All the doors were still unlocked and invitingly open, and the building had been emptied while they were finding Ellie. When they entered back into the bright light of day, S.H.E.I.L.D. was waiting outside, taking several henchmen and scientists in to custody for further questioning. Fury was striding over to them, about to tear Deadpool a new asshole for fucking up an investigation _this badly_ , when he noticed the small girl curled up in the man's arms. He stopped dead in his tracks, all trace of anger removed in favor of asking, “This your girl?”

“Yes sir.”

Nick made a hum of acknowledgement, details falling into place as he told Deadpool, “Cute kid.”

“Thanks. No clue how she's mine.”

Fury then took them back into the jet for a ride home, telling Spider-man that he would drop him off after Deadpool had been placed back at home. Spidey looked over at Deadpool, who was currently being one hundred percent quiet and respectful, and sucked in his breath uncertainly. 

A respectful and quiet Wade was not an okay Wade. An equally respectful and quiet Fury, when Deadpool was in the same location, was just as, if not more, concerning. Peter knew things were bad, really, really bad, so instead of taking Fury up on his offer, he asked, “Actually, um, if it would be all right with Wade, I was thinking about maybe being dropped off with him?”

Fury looked at Deadpool for a response, who in turn looked at Spider-man with a slightly puzzled look. 

“Uh, yeah, well, he mentioned pizza, and, well, I'm pretty famished and have no money, so, uhh, yeah...” 

_That, and it would be a huge mistake to leave Wade alone right now, for his own sake._

Fury raised an eyebrow, but when Deadpool gave a small smile instead of any protest, he just gave a shrug and said, “All right kid. Whatever you want.”

Peter smiled back, saying an appreciative “thanks” before settling down into his own corner of the plane and staring out of the window, reflecting on the day's events. The rest of the trip was entirely still, the three of all lost in their thoughts, the only noise was Deadpool softly humming Beatles songs to his still sleeping girl. After they got dropped off, they both gave a bit of a wave to Fury, before heading back to Wade's extremely suburbanite home. Ellie began to stir when the plane landed, and was fully awake by the time that they got home. She still wasn't super up for a lot of physical activity, so Wade carried her on their walk back. Peter held open the door as he dropped her off on the couch and promised to warm up a frozen pizza (but, like, the really good ones). She smiled tiredly at him, looking forward to the meal but still not back to feeling 100%. 

It wasn't until Wade headed towards the kitchen that he heard the muffled voice. Tied up and laying on the hard tile of the kitchen floor was one bound and gagged Bob, fully conscious and fully panicked. Wade had totally forgotten that he had gotten Bob to babysit. He also wasn't really expecting an institute run by a dead guy to show up, knock out Bob, and apprehend his daughter, but hey, that's life. He grumbled slightly as he undid the knots on Bob's hands and wrists, and couldn't help but laugh slightly when the Hydra agent's expression became _more_ panicked upon seeing Wade. The poor began to hyperventilates and tears were streaming down his face in fear as he pleaded and apologized profusely, to which Wade plopped a hand on his shoulder to get him to calm the fuck down and shut the fuck up. 

When Bob looked up in confusion, Wade gave him a slight smile and said, “Bob, calm yo tits, I'm not gonna hurt you. Ellie getting taken wasn't your fault, I already know that. Now go on, go see your kids man, and next time I get someone to babysit on one of those “kidnapped by crazy scientists” days, I'll make sure to get someone with real powers that can actually defend themselves, cool?”

Jesus fuck the look of awe Bob was pointing in his direction was just too much as the man replied, “Th-thank you Mr. Wilson,” before scurrying off to wherever it is that Bobs go. 

Hell, Wade wasn't even lying. He didn't blame Bob for what happened that day. Nope, the horrors of the institute were pretty much solely on his conscience. Still, it wasn't time to think about that, it was time to think about some hella rad pizza.

In the fifteen minutes or so it took to cook the food, Ellie and Wade both changed into some less blood stained and bullet holed clothes. Spidey stayed in his costume, because, well, secret identity and all that. 

The pizza had quite the healing effect on Ellie, and she perked up quite well with the food. Taking into consideration that she had pretty much regained all of her health, Wade proposed that she have a sleepover at a friends house. She happily accepted, and before he even had the chance to grab the image inducer, she had already pulled out her phone and arranged for a ride over. When a mini van arrived, Wade waved her off as she headed out for a night with friends, smiling widely as she waved back. The car drove off, and after a few moments, Wade shut the door and softly collapsed against it with a small sigh of exhaustion. He rubbed his face, before remembering that Spider-man was still there and attempting to quickly compose himself and uncomfortably stating, “Hey, um, thanks for the help and all, but you can leave if you'd like. Or stay. Whatever.”

Spider-man paused mid-chew and gave him a concerned look, mask still half off and the facial expression much clearer. Wade hated it. Wade hated him. Why the hell did this asshole care anyway? Fuck him. He didn't know shit. He didn't know how terrible of a person Wade was. He didn't know completely and utterly _mental_ the guy was and he had no fucking right to feel bad for a fucking monster and before Wade had realized it he was beating at one of the walls with his fists, bare cement crushing the bones in his hands. At first it was silent, skin to cement, skin to cement, repeating, yet after a few moments Wade figured out that he was sobbing and screaming, his knuckles dissolving into bloody chunks. His hands began to look like ground meat, but the pain of torn skin and shattered bones wasn't enough, he had to keep throwing punches until he had pulverized himself, until there was nothing but the pain left. He had to destroy the abomination that was himself, he couldn't allow for something so vile and worthless to continue on. He would have succeeded, he would have been able to beat himself so much that his healing factor would have taken days to finish reconstructing him, except that forceful hands grabbed onto his shoulders and pulled him back from the wall. 

In that instant, all the fight left from him, and he collapsed onto the ground. He crumpled inward, trying to make himself disappear as he desperately grasped at his own scalp and pulled his knees to his chest. His breath shuddered, lungs desperately lurching as they tried to suck in air before another wailing sob was released. Eventually, the heavy shrieks died down, breaths came in at a more regular interval, and the tears finally stopped. After he was able to suck in air without being interrupted, he stretched out, no longer in the fetal position, and removed his hands from his hands. Feeling embarrassed more than anything, he propped himself up on his arms, before forcing himself to stand up like a goddamn human being with a least a shred of dignity. He patted himself off, wiped away the last of the tears on his face, and straightened his shirt. He gave a curt nod towards Spider-man (who was giving him a look of pity and worry, which he absolutely _despised_ ) as he said, “Oh, man, sorry you had to see that. I have just no idea what came over me, usually I'm nothing like this. But it's all good now. This is fine. I'm fine.”

Wade looked briefly at his hands which currently had more blood than skin on them and muttered a soft, “Ah, shit,” before shaking his head slightly and saying, “You know, I'm gonna heal pretty quick, but I should really get a bandage on these things. I mean, seriously, I just got this carpet, and there's already blood on it."

Spider-man was glaring at him now, which was actually preferable to the distressed bleeding heart look that he had moments earlier. Without any sort of ambiguity, he pointed at the nearest kitchen chair and commanded “Sit”.

“What?”

In a more demanding tone, he repeated “SIT”.

Wade held up his hands (or what remained of them, at least) in surrender, walking over to the seat and saying, “Fine, whatever, _mom_.”

Spider-man gave a satisfied look as Wade grumbled and sat down, before he began to rummage through the cabinets. 

“What the hell are you doing?”

Spider-man turned to face him, both hands on the handles of the doors of the most recent cabinet, before telling him, “Simple. You sit, I make us some tea, we talk.”

“Jesus fuck it's not like you're goddamn my therapist. Seriously dude, I'm fine, go home. Get some sleep. Do your nerd school and your dork work and your spider thing.” 

“Wade, you're still bleeding on the table due to _self-inflicted_ wounds. That's the textbook definition of not fine. Besides, tea and a talk is a tried and true method of alleviating some of the pain. My aunt used to do it all the time when I had my own breakdowns. Hell, she still does on some days.” 

Wade smirked and raised an eyebrow at the man taking two mugs of water from the microwave, (Dude, he had an electric kettle. Spider-man was such as uncultured swine.) asking, “The Amazing Spider-man has had emotional breakdowns?” >

“Oh god, yeah. Duh. I mean, come on, it's a challenge to find a superhero who isn't a train-wreck.” 

Deciding not to elaborate any further, Spider-man made up tea and sat down, passing Wade a mug while pulling up his mask to sip on his own. 

“Listen, I don't pretend to know even half of the issues you've got going on, but maybe I can help with just the ones that are going on today. Or, er, tonight, I guess. So come on. Talk.” 

Wade rolled his eyes and was about to blather endlessly until the guy got annoyed and left, but the he saw that the man looked so fucking _genuine_ about the whole “concerned and interested in what he had to say” thing that instead he just let out a sigh. 

“You're not gonna leave until I talk about my fricking feelings, are you?” 

“Well, my schedule is pretty clear. I could probably be here until at least next week.” 

“Uggggghhhh. Fine, whatever.” 

A pause. Another one. A minute passes. 

“Still waiting.” 

“Yeah okay, just give me a sec. I'm not really the touchy feely type, a'ight?” 

“Hey, take your time. Like I said, I don't have any place I need to be.” 

Man, Wade really, really, _really_ did not want to do this. Goddamn it why couldn't he have just held off the complete mental breakdown until after Spider-man had left? But noooo, he had to show the guy what a weak and pathetic individual he really was. One sigh, groan, and temple rub later, he was finally able to blurt out, “My daughter fucking died today, do you really expect me to be one hundred percent okie doke?” 

Spider-man gave a little shrug as he said, “She got better.” 

Wade immediately squinted at him and said, “Don't you vaguely reference Monty Python at me right now you little shit.” 

Spider-man gave a slight laugh and said, “Sorry, sorry, couldn't resist. But, still, I mean, yeah, you witnessed something pretty horrific today, but she's okay now. She died for a bit, and now she's eating pizza and hanging out with friends and doesn't even seem to realize that something all that bad happened in the first place. She's _okay_. She came back. That's something most people wouldn't be able to do.” 

“That's the thing though, Spidey. I mean, am I relieved and overjoyed and incredibly fucking grateful that she's still around and here and not gone forever? Of course, duh, _obviously_. But, fuck, I just-” 

Dammit, Wade could feel himself about to dump everything on the man. All the fears, all the doubts, the insecurities, the self hatred, it was about to come pouring out like a goddamn faucet. And it was going to drown _Spider-man_ of all people. Oh well, feelings may as well be like betting, all or nothing. 

“Just, fucking, she shouldn't have gotten hurt in the first place. She shouldn't have been in a position where she could have been fucking _shot_ in the first place, and, fuck, if she had pretty much anyone else as a father, she wouldn't have been in that situation. I, shit, she has my healing factor, for Christ's sake! It might of saved her life this time, but fuck! When is she gonna stop aging, when will other people find out, will people try to experiment on her to unlock whatever fucked up genetics she happened to inherent? What if she figures it all out and tries to do something stupid like becoming a superhero? Has that ever worked out well for anybody?” 

“And then, fuck, she's _my_ daughter. She's already far too much like me and I barely even know the kid. She has my healing factor, my sense of humor, my slight inclination towards violence, what if other things start to appear? I didn't even know that she could inherent my healing factor, let alone all the other shit that I might have given her. I mean, can pass I pass on my crazy? Is she going to look up at me one day with those big brown eyes and ask why the voices are being so mean? Is she going to see reality dissolving around her when she needs a grasp on it the most? Is she going to wonder whether she's real or doubt her own existence? Goddammit, I wouldn't wish my worst enemy to have my kind of mental problems, let alone a fucking innocent ten year old girl.” 

“And then there's the whole shit immune system thing. Jesus H. fucking Christ I had terminal cancer when I was seven-fucking-teen! That's only seven years away for her. I shouldn't even be alive, let alone have had the opportunity to pass on my fucked up DNA! I evaded evolution and now a ten year old girl is going to suffer for it. God, what if she ends up looking like me, a deformed freak with scars and open sores and generally resembling something that's more corpse than human? Why, fuckin _why_ did she have to be my daughter?!” 

Wade's voice cracked on the last question and he could feel himself getting hysterical. He had cried enough today, thank you very much, so he sucked down some air and let out a huff, calming himself down before he spoke again. 

“I, uh, I guess that's what this kind of all comes down to. She is the amazing, wonderful, intelligent, beautiful light of my light. She's one of the best people I've ever met, and I love Ellie more than I ever thought humanely possible. All I want is for her to live a happy, healthy, long life. At first I thought I could help make that happen by avoiding her entirely, not letting her get mixed up in the craziness of my life, literally and figuratively. Then I tried the opposite, tried to be her dad, like a real dad, not just a half-assed attempt of a parent due to genetic obligation. But, fuck, there's nothing I can do. The whole healing factor thing just made me realize that I have fucked up her life long before I knew her name, in ways I haven't even begun to imagine. I fucking destroyed this girl's life just by being the one who's shitty ass genes she has to inherent and I,just, _fuck_ I'm so fucking glad that she exists but if there was any way that she could exist without me having to be a part of that existence, maybe she'd actually stand a chance in this world, ya know?” 

Spider-man took one last swig of his tea and gave a slightly sarcastic smile, which was honestly pretty goddamn rude considering that Wade had just bared his fucking soul like some sort of whiny asshole. But instead of saying something cruel or laughing at Wade's “emotional vulnerability”, or, you know, saying something helpful, he just replied with, “Oh man, you are pulling a classic superhero right now.” 

Wade pulled a mildly repulsed and offended face as he asked “ _What_?” 

“The self-loathing, the blaming for things you didn't do, the constant “what ifs” that make you just feel like more of a jackass, it's all very....me, actually. Those things, well, they certainly don't help. The questions alone can push you off the edge. Life gets real shitty, and you internalize it, you think it's your fault, and you feel the need to scream or punch something or disappear and it's kinda the worst.” 

“Thanks for the advice Spidey. 'Life is shit, yay'. You should write a book.” 

“I wasn't done, asshole.” 

“All right Dr. Phil, so how do you fix it?” 

“Um, time, mostly. Crying, lots of angst. Maybe giving up on a few hobbies for a bit in favor of sleep. Lots of sleep. Too much sleep. Of course, if you're anything like me you slap on some red spandex and take up a dangerous vigilante position that no one actually wants you to do and endangers your family, but, hey, with great power comes great responsibility and all that. Plus, if I do nothing to help I'll feel like shit, but, um, I wouldn't personally recommend that course of action. It's not as fun as the cartoons make it out to be.” 

“In all seriousness though, today was a shock to the system. I get that, I really do. It's gonna take a bit, but you'll be okay. Right now, Ellie is...fine. She's a relatively happy, relatively carefree ten year old who likes violent video games, dress up, and Nerf battles. You weren't the one that fired the shot, you weren't the ones who hurt her, and you've stopped the bad guys from hurting her again, even if I don't necessarily agree with your methods. You haven't ruined her life. She clearly loves having you as her dad, so be the best dad that you can be. Plus, the future is a mess. Even if I could see it, it probably wouldn't help a whole lot considering how often the space time continuum gets rewritten. Maybe bad things will happen. Maybe they won't. I'm not saying things are going to be perfect, but, god, try to enjoy what you have. At least when she dies, she always comes back. In my book, that's pretty damn cool. Also, please, try maybe not to tell her about her powers until she is older because really the world does not need another ten year old with a hero complex.” 

“I'll drink to that.” 

“Can you even get drunk?” 

“I cannot. Well, not easily.” 

“Huh. All right.” 

A small silence fell between them as they sipped on cold tea, not sure where to go from there. Both of them had been a little more emotionally open than either was comfortable with, and one of them was still wearing bloodstained webbed spandex. The stillness broke with Wade letting out a light laugh that made the web-head inquisitive. Seeing the look Spidey was directing towards him, Wade decided to elaborate. 

“Sorry, it's just, man, fifteen year old me would be so confused right now. Like, here I am, covered in cancer sores, finding out my daughter is basically immortal, drinking tea and getting life advice from a man who thinks webbed tights look flattering.” 

“In my defense, Spandex makes my ass look great. As for fifteen year old me, well, he's probably just amazed that I have abs and 20/20 vision.” 

“Oh man you were a four-eyes as a kid?” 

“Well, I'm eight eyes now, so I'm not sure my vision improved.” 

“Did you just make a fucking spider pun?” 

“I did.” 

That was it. No longer could Spidey hold a straight face, and honestly, neither could Wade. Both of them just began to crack up at the absurdity of this whole mess. They dissolved into hysterics, clutching at their sides,tears streaming out, and their facial muscles beginning to hurt. It took a few minutes for them to gain their breath back, but the rasping breath now was a hell of a lot more satisfying than it was painful. Once the both of them had calmed down enough to speak, Wade wiped away a tear and let out a last laugh as he said, “So, man, you stayin' the night? You're welcome to crash on the couch.” 

“Yeah, I probably will. I mean, the last bus out of here left a couple hours ago, and I'm not really up for slinging my way across suburbia.” 

“Public transportation? Really dude?” 

“Shut up, I'm poor and I don't have a car. Okay?” 

“Whatever nerd. I'm heading to bed.”

“All right. Good night.” 

“Good night yourself.” 

As Wade headed up to his room and let Spidey mull on his own thoughts, he could tell something had inherently shifted in their dynamic. The man knew too much. Wade decided not to think about it. It would be easier to sleep that way. 


	6. An Interlude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> just a short little chapter between this one and the next, because Ellie is great and I love her

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter is like 95% dialogue oops. Like all they do is eat some pancakes and discuss stuff  
> I'm great at writing action-based characters, clearly

He was making that face again. Ellie hated it. It was the thinking face, but, like, the thinking about not nice things face. Her dad had been doing it a lot it the last week and she decided that enough was enough. Over the past week, it was happening all the time. He got quiet for no reason, didn't play as many games with her, and his smile was...wrong. Didn't reach his eyes or somethin'. Ellie made a scrunched up face at him over her Sunday morning chocolate chip pancakes until he finally acknowledged her. Slightly puzzled, he asked her, “What's that face for?”

“What's wrong with you?”

Subtlety was not her strong suit. He looked briefly taken aback by her question, before giving a shrug and small smile as he told her, “Nothing. Well, I mean, a lot of things, but in general, I'm good. Why?”

She gave a frown at the response, studying his face his face for a bit. Nope, she was right, he was lying. Didn't her dad know it's not good to lie? Especially not to your own child. What a terrible dad. She folded her arms and gave him a hard stare, doing her best to look authoritative as she asked, “Nuh-uh. Something's wrong.”

A flick of panic crossed Wade's features before being replaced with a smirk and eyebrow raise, amusedly asking, “Now what would make you think that? Did I not cook these pancakes to perfection?”

She gave him an even harder stare, determined to make him tell her. A sad dad was no fun, and she was going to be diligent in this case.

“You've been weird since that dumb lab thing last weekend. You don't smile with your face. And you don't talk enough. And you don't sing along to music. Why?”

“Ah, crap. I'm sorry kiddo I've just haven't been getting enough sleep. And in my defense I kind of super sick of “Let It Go” and I think you are too, so expecting me to sing along is more of a public service, less of a reason to be worried.”

“Dad you didn't even sing along to “I'll Make a Man Out of You”.”

Wade gave a mock gasp as he held up up a hand to his mouth and half whispered, “Well, this case is worse than I thought. Ellie, I'm afraid you'll have to call an ambulance, and this could be terminal. Preston will have to take care of you from now on, and if I pass away, tell Bob that he still owes me that twenty bucks.”

Ellie gave his her most finely tuned bitchface, tilted up her head, and forcefully said, “Bullcrap.”

She then stood up on her chair and slammed her hands on the table, eyes growing wide as a realization hit her.

“Something happened! With those masked guys and the lab and the bad people! What happened!? Was Spider-man mean to you? I'll kick him.”

Wade couldn't help but laugh at the serious expression on his daughter's face, which she did not appreciate. This was serious, if anybody was being mean to her dad she had to be mean to them. Even if it was Spider-man because heroes shouldn't be bullies. Being mean was kind of the opposite of what superheros were supposed to do, but sometimes when her dad thought she couldn't hear him, well... she heard stories. So, yeah, he might laugh, but she totally would kick Spider-man to teach him a lesson. 

“No, nothing like that, Spider-man was fine. Even made me some tea. Overall nice kid with an even nicer a- nope wait you're ten never mind. Anyway, yeah, no kicking. It's just that....”

Wade paused for a few moments. He really didn't want to lie to his daughter anymore, (and was pretty sure she'd see through it anyway) yet the idea of telling her what happened would probably lead to her knowing about her healing factor. Which would mean that the potential future would become the present reality at a much more rapid rate than Wade was prepared for. Ellie was starting to look impatient waiting for an answer, so he allowed himself a small mental shrug and a casual reminder to take things one freaking step at a time.

“Do you remember when you had that weird dream, and then you woke up and didn't feel too good?”

“Yeah?”

Wade began to rub at one of his palms with his thumb, letting out a sigh and briefly contemplating how he was going to retell the events.

“That was because you got hurt. Really bad. I was so scared that the damage was permanent...”

Ellie was watching him with curious eyes as she asked, “But I'm fine. My chest kinda hurt for a bit, I had some pizza, and everything was cool. I mean, not really sure why I fell asleep or why breathing was hard for a bit, but I didn't think I got hurt all that bad.”

While Wade was tempted to say, “Welp, that's it, case closed, everything's fine, wanna go have a zombie tea party”, instead came out, “Yeah, I didn't think anything had happened the first couple of times either.”

Her eyebrows furrowed together, trying to connect the words in her head and make something come together, but no such luck. She went for a tried and true method of figuring something out, which was to look at her dad and ask, “Huh?”

“You did get hurt. There was a stray shot, and long story short, it was bad. But, well, unbeknownst to me, you went to sleep and your body started to rapidly heal. When you woke up, almost all of your injuries had healed, and after pizza, there wasn't any sign that anything had happened at all.”

A beat. A squint. A mental calculation.

“I'm gonna go with, 'huh' one more time. Just to be safe.”

“Ellie, you got my healing factor. Any injuries you get will get better, no matter how bad. Still hurts like hell, but you can always recover fully.”

She took a moment to process, before a smile spread across her face and she replied with, “That. is. so. COOL!”

“I can _do_ that? Neat! That makes a lot of sense actually I mean one time I broke my arm on the monkey bars and I was all better in a day but I was still told to wear a stupid cast but then I just kinda went back on the monkey bars and it confused a lot of people but yeah that would explain it.”

“So I have superpowers like you! Which means I can be a hero like you oh man that will be so cool we'll be a badass father daughter duo that is basically unstoppable heck yeah let's do it Dad I'll get the capes!”

“Woah woah woah slow down there kiddo. First of all, and I can't _believe_ that I even have to say this, but no capes. None of the cool superheros wear capes. Save the capes for those DC losers.”

“But Dad, don't some of those “DC losers” with capes have multi-million dollar movie franchises?”

“Not in our universe they don't. Also, I have pretty much no idea how you know that and I'd rather not dig into anything right now. Anyway, um, no, you are most certainly _not_ becoming a superhero, at least not any time soon.”

“But Daaaaaaddd”

“No, seriously, hear me out Ellie. Being a hero, or even an anti-hero, you know, if you're _cool_ , isn't all it's cracked up to be. Like, sure, there are some cool moments, and I'm not gonna lie, it can be real fun to kick some ass, but overall, zero out of ten would not recommend again. Plus, you're only ten for cripes sake, no need for a savior complex just yet.”

“How can you say that? I have powers like you now and I'm not supposed to do anything with them? That's so lame! What about all those people that you helped out! Think of how much worse things would be if you didn't do anything!”

“Ellie, I...I'm not sure that I really helped out that much. I'm starting to think I did a hell of a lot more bad than I ever did good.”

Ellie looked up at him with concerned eyes and a small reassurance of a smile, and told him in the fucking sweetest voice possible, “Well, at the very least, you helped me.”

God, having a kid breaks your heart in the most wonderful ways. He could argue with her. He was about 105% certain he had made her life worse. After all, she'd probably have an alive mom, wouldn't have been kidnapped, had no real threats in her life, but he had kinda ruined all of that. Instead of saying that, he instead opted for, “I'll give you that one.”

Ellie could easily tell he was lying, again. For someone who did it so much, you'd think he'd be better at it by now. She didn't really get why he was lying though. Her dad did help her. He fought the bad guys, he always played with her, he made her food an' bought her clothes an' helped her out with her homework and was pretty much the best dad she could've asked for, even when he was all sad and stuff. He was super nice and funny and good at games but also really, really stupid. Not like actually stupid, 'cuz he knew a lot of stuff, but sometimes he couldn't see the most basic things. She swore she understood some things waaaaayyyy better than him, and she was ten! Weren't grown-ups supposed to know more things than kids? Yet, he didn't even know that he was a good person and a good dad. Like she said, kind of stupid. She didn't know how to say all that though without it being, like, super weird, so instead she said, “Hey Dad?”

“Yeah, honey?”

“I don't think I need to be a superhero. I think right now I just kinda need to be a kid.”

“Glad to hear that. I think so too. Though, I mean, you are technically qualified for the Jean Grey School of Higher Learning, if you wanted to go there instead of regular school.”

She scrunched up her face for a bit, pausing to think. Kids were kinda mean to her at her regular school, so the idea of moving school's wasn't particularly unappealing. Then again, she did have a few good friends and her teachers were pretty cool, plus...

“Doesn't Cyclops teach there?”

“Yeah.”

“Then no thanks.”

Wade laughed at that, before giving her a fist bump and proudly declaring, “That's my girl! Wanna go play laser tag?”

“Hell yeah.”

Maybe things weren't gonna turn out so poorly after all.


	7. Meetings: Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And now, the moment you've all been waiting for!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is technically a stand alone chapter but like the next chapter is kind of direct continuation of it so I'm calling it a part one

Jesus H. Christ, you have _one_ emotional breakdown in front of guy, and suddenly he's your best friend or something. Anyway, yeah, Spider-man had been stopping by a hell of a lot more frequently in the past month or so. Wade wasn't even paying him to come anymore, after Spidey started straight up refusing the cash. (Though, he was getting food out of the arrangement, so it's not like there was _no_ incentive to stop by) The man was visiting at least once a week now, usually on Saturday if there wasn't any interfering alien invasion or rampant super villain strike or some evil A.I. on the loose. That only happened about every other week. 

The especially weird part was, there wasn't any particular reason that Spider-man was coming over. He didn't try to recruit Wade on anything, wasn't actively seeking out some sort of weapon or artifact, was never giving him some sort of warning that the neighborhood was going to be destroyed in a deadly whatever, he just kind of...hung out. Usually he would watch movies with them or entertain Ellie (after a couple visits, they were finally allowed to paint his nails. Ellie and Wade celebrated a great victory that day, because his nails looked amazing they had a red base with little spiders on them.), or if Ellie wasn't there, they'd talk about pop culture/vent about the annoyances in their lives. (Fun fact: Spider-man watches the trashiest TV. He's seen every season of _Real Housewives of New York City_ , I kid you not.) All in all, it was awesome, and pretty much everything that a teenage Wade had dreamed of (well, there may have been a bit more physical contact involved in his dreams, but, ya know, close enough), and also sorta kinda super duper suspicious. No one was that nice to him for no good reason. Especially not superheros. Besides the occasional offer to go grab a beer sometime, most superheros were kind of dicks. Not that it was unwarranted, he'd been kind of a dick as well, which just goes to show that the whole Spider-man bein' a bro thing was even more suspect. However, on the day that Wade was about to interrogate him on it, Spider-man didn't show up.

Instead some nerd was at their door.

When the doorbell rang, Ellie and Wade charged full speed ahead, fully covered in kitchen wear armor. They had been using wooden spoons as swords and lids as shields in a ferocious battle against each other as of about four seconds ago, but immediately decided to ban together and fight as one against whatever nefarious forces were awaiting them at their front door. Ellie banked on Bob, Wade was pretty sure it was Spider-man, and neither were one hundred percent correct, though Wade was closer. With a collective whoop, they raised their “weapons” and hurriedly opened the door, only to find... some guy. He had on glasses that he probably didn't need, brown hair that was a fluffy mess, and big ol' doe eyes. He looked to be about four inches shorter than Wade, and a couple of years younger. He was wearing typical college student gear, consisting of a zip-up hoodie, a Captain America shirt (Wade was 95% sure he had the same one), jeans and Converse. All in all, pretty cute. Still had no clue who the guy was or why he was here, so he figured it best to keep his..uhhh, spoon raised as he asked, “Who the hell are you?” 

~~~  
As far as bad ideas went, this was probably pretty damn high up on the list. Seriously, Deadpool was probably the absolute _last person_ he should reveal his secret identity to but...well, it wasn't _really_ Deadpool that he was revealing it to, was it? Wade had been semi-retired for almost a year. This guy was a far cry from the murderous mercenary who killed for money. This was a single dad who watched too many cartoons and TV sitcoms, someone that would bitch about the PTA and neighbors, who liked to discuss ridiculous real life applications of light sabers at 3 am. And yeah, the dude had issues (a _lot_ of issues), but maybe this wasn't that bad of an idea after all.  
…  
Okay yeah it was still a bad idea. Yet, Peter couldn't shake the feeling that this was kind of something he needed to do. Still, when he looked at the scarred 30 year old ex-mercenary and his mutant ten year old daughter, both of which were wearing pots on their heads and threateningly wielding wooden spoons and lids, he couldn't help but have some serious doubts. So when Wade asked, “Who the hell are you,” there was a definite temptation to lie his ass off. Instead, he stammered out, “I...uh....may I speak to you alone, sir?”

_Sir? What the hell Peter._

Wade raised a brow ridge at him, before lowering his weapons and giving a skeptical look towards his daughter. 

“You thinkin' S.H.E.I.L.D recruiter?”

She scrunched up her face and gave Peter an assessment, before shaking her head and saying, “Nah, sales guy.”

Wade shuddered briefly as he said, “Ugh. That's even worse,” before looking up to Peter and asking, “So, what're you selling?”

“What? No, um, nothing like that, I just, ahhhh, could I talk to you without El..without your daughter, for a moment?”

Ellie puffed out her chest and crossed her arms, boldly stating, “Nuh-uh, no way! Me and my dad stand together in this mighty battle, I will not simply be ordered..”

“Ellie, how about you go upstairs for a bit? I'll come get you when we're done, okay?”

Ellie instantly deflated, giving a disappointed whine before muttering some curses under her breath and heading up to her room. Wade made sure she was out of hearing range before he turned back and asked, “Again, I ask, who the hell are you?”

Peter shuffled on his feet for a bit, somewhat avoiding eye contact and taking a few moments to breathe in and out before he stood up straight, planted his feet, and faked enough confidence to tell Wade, “Well, my name is Peter Parker, but..uhhh...well, you kind of know me better as Spider-man.”

Wade gave him a quick look over, before jutting out his chin and saying, “Prove it.”

“What?”

“Prove it. Do something spidery.”

Peter kind of blinked and looked around for a bit, before kind of shrugging, and asking, “Can I come inside real quick?”

Wade gave a nod, so he walked in and closed the door behind him, before crawling up the wall and standing on the ceiling. After he walked for a bit, he decided to go for something with a little pizazz, and did a front flip off of the ceiling and landed on his feet in front of Wade, even doing a slightly sad attempt at jazz hands and meekly saying, “Ta-da?”

Wade then instantly started to crack up. Yep, this was a bad idea. Peter couldn't help but roll his eyes as Wade laughed hysterically, clutching at his sides and placing one of his hands on Peter's shoulders. After he was able suck in enough breath and stand fully up, Wade wiped away a tear, sighed, and said, “Oh man that's so fuckin' funny.”

Peter was not amused. With a deadpan tone, he replied, “I'm so glad that one of the biggest secrets that I've ever had is so amusing to you.”

“What? No, not that. I just find it hilarious that you used to make your living by selling selfies to a major newspaper. Could you be any more of a millennial I swear to god.”

“I....what?”

“Peter Parker, a.k.a the guy that used to do all those Spider-man photos for the Daily Bugle, right? And since Spider-man and Peter Parker are the same dude, all those pictures were totally selfies, and you totally got money for them.”

Peter thought about for a few moments, before beginning to laugh himself as he said, “Holy shit, you're totally right. Damn.”

Honestly, he was kind of surprised that no one else had ever made that connection. Usually when Peter did the big reveal, there was some sort of shock or joy or occasionally even anger, and Wade just pointed out how ridiculous his former career was. It was...kind of nice, actually. 

“Hey man, I just, uh, wanted to say thanks for being so cool about this. I mean, most people kind of freak out when I do the whole unmasking thing...”

“I'm gonna stop you right there sweet cheeks. Don't be fooled, I _am_ freaking out, I just happen to be an expert at internalizing things. Y'know, practice and all that. But honestly, it's a lot less to do with Spider-man being some doe eyed dork, that's perfectly believable, and a lot more wondering why the actual fuck you would tell me.”

“I mean, seriously, what game are you playin' here Spidey? I mean, we go on one team up and I accidentally let a bunch of the crazy spill out and suddenly we're BFFs? What the hell, man? Plus, you're trusting _me_ of all people with a secret like this? I certainly wouldn't! I'm terrible, for, like, an assload of reasons. Either you're more insane than I am, which is _really_ sayin' something, or you're fucking with me. And I'm not fond of manipulation, I've dealt with too much of it for far too long. Just...be straight with me, okay? Is this some sort of recruitment thing or S.H.E.I.L.D training bullshit?”

All right, so that was a new one. He hadn't really been prepared for Wade to be questioning him, but Peter was relatively sure he could provide satisfactory answers. Convincing Wade he was telling the truth may present more of challenge. Probably would require him to bare his soul slightly more than he was comfortable with. Oh well, here goes. 

“No, Wade, it's nothing like that. No one's telling me to be here, I'm not being recruited, I swear I came here of my own volition. I guess, I dunno, lately I feel like we have more in common than I initially thought? I've kind of gotten to see you in a completely different context than I did when you were still an active mercenary, and I realized I was being a jerk to you. I mean, stopping the whole “killing people for money thing” was a big plus, not gonna lie, but honestly, you're far more of a hero than I ever gave you credit for. You helped me out when I was still being kind of a dick, you obviously would do anything for the people you care about, and for someone who is supposed to be a selfish asshole who only cares about money, you sure do a lot of selfless things, for free.”

“And I don't pretend to know what life is like for you, because you've been through some serious shit, but...I think there's some things I can understand. I think we both know what it's like when you're just trying to do your best and yet everyone still thinks you're a menace. Getting blamed for all the downfalls, never getting credit for any of the good you do, I've been there and done that. Still am. And I wasn't lying when I said I could've been you. I've gotten close. Especially after my uncle died, god, I was so fucking angry. I wanted revenge, I wanted justice, I wanted to gain back some semblance of control at whatever cost. If I had to go through what you've been through, if I hadn't had the support system that I had, I have no idea where I'd be right now. Probably a whole hell of a lot worse off than you. I don't believe you're nearly as bad as people think you are. Hell, I don't think you're nearly as bad as _you_ think you are. Plus, you're one of the few people who doesn't get sick of my jokes, and can hold their own in a pop culture conversation. I just really like hanging out with you, and of course I adore Ellie, and it felt kind of like if I was going to try and be your friend that it would be a lot less shitty for me to do that as myself rather than as a superhero persona.”

Wade spent the whole time giving him a scrutinizing look, arms folded and one brow ridge raised, but as he finished his whole spiel, Wade put his arms down and gave him a kind of half smile as he responded.

“Well, you're either telling the truth or you're a damn fine liar, which I highly doubt. So, um, thanks, I suppose. I mean, you're wrong, and you've made some pretty dumb assumptions about me, but the sentiment is still appreciated.”

“That's the thing though, Wade, I know I'm not wrong about you. Maybe revealing my identity wasn't the best idea, and I really hope I haven't put you or your family in any sort of danger, but I'm right about the kind of person you are. I figured that out about a week about, or, well, I confirmed it at the very least. This probably sounds dumb, but..oh god, how do I phrase this? A large part of my decision to,um, show you my face was because of my spidey sense, or, actually, lack thereof. For the longest time, there was always this kind of residual buzz when you were around, it was annoying as hell actually, but recently it just kind of, uh, disappeared. It wasn't like it was actually gone, because it still happened during battle, but when I'm around you, total silence. That's when I realized how much I trust you. And I know that I'm a bit slow on the uptake, considering that you trusted me with so much a long time ago, but, yeah, it didn't seem fair or reasonable to keep hiding my identity. Not that Peter Parker is all that special, but, hey, my name's alliterative so that's kind of cool.”

“Yes I know he's hot and nice but we can't just..no you shut up! There's no freaking way.. I will not..”

It took Peter a few moments to realize that Wade was talking to the boxes again. He usually avoided doing that around Ellie, but apparently they were being louder than usual. After Wade and the boxes began to discuss the merits of doing...something (Peter honestly had no idea what), Peter cleared his throat to try and get Wade's focus back on him. Wade stopped mid conversation (monologue?) and muttered out an apology before looking expectantly at Peter. Okay, this was it. The final piece of the puzzle. If this went well, there would be no challenge that he could not face. 

“There was one last reason I had to tell you. Oh, god, this is really dumb because I'm not a kid anymore and she really doesn't need to keep tabs on every friendship I have, but she's insistent if nothing else, so, uh, well, my Aunt May wants to meet you. She's invited you to dinner and is apparently “dying to meet you”. Ellie is welcome to come as well. After spending enough time at this house, she's taken notice that I know people that she doesn't, and, yeah, in conclusion, how busy are you this Friday?”

Wade's eyes lit up and Peter immediately regretted his decision to say anything and silently cursed May's hospitality and loving spirit as Wade said, “Oh, Petey! Barely a month into our relationship and you already want me to meet the parents! This is such a big occasion, whatever shall I wear? I'm sure I have something nice and shiny somewhere in my closet, cut just low enough to show off my assets but not so much as to look like a tramp-”

“Woah, hey, stop right there. If you're going to come see my aunt, and honestly far more of my life than I'm entirely comfortable with, we have to establish some ground rules. First off, no dresses, not because you don't look nice in them but because it's really not that kind of occasion. A nice shirt, _not_ the one with embroidered tigers on it, and jeans will suffice. Second, _please_ scale back on the dirty jokes, which I would hope you would do with Ellie around anyway but I never know because it's you. Also, no violence, duh. The last rule is No. Mask. I'm inviting Wade Wilson, not Deadpool, because that's who I want my aunt to meet.”

Wade mulled over the words for a moment before smiling and saying, “All right, first off, I _do_ look amazing in dresses, but I respect where you're coming from. Second, of course I will I am 100% completely appropriate in every social situation at every time there is absolutely nothing that could go wrong here. But about the third thing I really do have to protest.”

Circling his hand around his face, Wade asked, “Does she really want to see all of _this_? I mean, I sure as hell don't, why do you think I wear the thing in the first place? It's not a nice thing to look at in the mirror every morning, you feel?”

“Dude, seriously, it's fine. Aunt May is the last person you have to worry about. She couldn't care less about someone's appearance.”

“See, that's the problem, right there. She sounds sweet and nice and exactly like the type of person that would raise Spider-man, and I don't want to give her a heart attack. I don't want to disgust her, and I _definitely_ don't want her pity. Maybe the mask won't help, but there's pretty much no fuckin' way that I'm heading over without at least the image inducer.”

Peter sighed slightly, but admitted to himself that he was going to have to compromise on this one.

“All right, fine, you can bring the image inducer. Anything else we should discuss before you meet the person that raised me?”

“Yeah, one last thing. You said Ellie could come. I assume that means you're going to tell her, because if you don't, I will, because quite honestly I'm not particularly good at keeping secrets from her.”

“I mean, of cour...wait what do you mean by that?”

“Uhhhhhhh....”

“ _Wade_ what did you tell her?”

“UHHHHHHHH…so..... Okay yeah I totally told her about her powers, but hey there have yet to be any real consequences so like it's fine whatever.”

“Goddammit Wade you had one job.”

“Yeah well America wasn't supposed to split into political parties and Hitler promised not to invade Czechoslovakia but hey sometimes people don't do what they're told. Anyway, hey, we were talking about you and your nerdy ass secret identity.”

“...Fine. Get Ellie down here.”

Upon that comment, Wade turned his head towards the stairs and called out, “Kid! Get your butt down here!”

A slightly distant voice called back, “Go away Dad I'm busy!”

“I got juicy gossip on Spider-man though! You're gonna wanna hear this!”

There was a pause, before a thud and the sound of footsteps rapidly approaching. Ellie slid around the corner _Risky Business_ style and jumped down the stairs, giving Wade a skeptical look as she approached. 

“This better be good I was up to some very classic shenanigans before you called. ”

She then turned towards Peter, who gave a little awkward wave, and gave her dad an unimpressed stare.

“What's with sales dude? Did you buy a vacuum?”

“What? No. Though now that I think about it we actually totally do need a new vacuum...yo, Petey, you got any vacuums for sale?”

Peter couldn't help but roll his eyes at the question. He mentally sighed, wondering why he had decided to care about these two _incredibly easily distracted_ individuals. This..this is where he had placed his affections. 

“Focusing, right, understanding you loud and clear here Petey. Hey, did you know you're a helluva lot easier to read without the mask? Sarcastic asshole is a good look on you.”

Wade rotated on his heels to face his daughter more directly, voice lowering as he took on a more down to earth voice.

“In all seriousness, Ellie, how good are you at keeping secrets? Real secrets? Secrets with, I dunno, actual ramifications or whatever.”

“Really Dad, you're doubting my abilities? One of my babysitters is a S.H.E.I.L.D agent, the dweebier one is a H.Y.D.R.A agent, and both of us have superpowers. I think I can handle it.”

He bent over slightly to ruffle her hair, which she _hated_ (well, maybe she just said she did), as he said, “That's my girl! Though you totally let the beans spill in front of this dork like two seconds ago.”

She shrugged, blowing it off by saying, “Eh, he's a skinny vacuum cleaner salesman who has no context for any of those things. Didn't really seem like much of a threat.”

“I am not a salesman Jesus H Christ!”

Wade and Ellie both turned back towards Peter, slightly startled at the outburst. Wade couldn't help but smirk as he said, “Well, then, if you're not a sales guy, why don't you introduce yourself to my daughter?”

Wow, way to put him on the spot, _Wade_. Apparently this was happening sooner rather than later.

“Well, um, hey, Ellie. I'm Peter Parker.”

“Is there any reason that I should know you?”

“Unless you're an avid reader of academic papers on biophysics or were an avid follower of _The Daily Bugle_ like five years ago, you wouldn't know the name, no. But, uh, you do know me.”

Ellie didn't look impressed. 

“Except, um, you've only ever seen me with a mask and like I don't normally wear glasses but I guess I grabbed them out of habit today but yeah...”

“I don't follow.”

“In summary, I'm Spider-man. You know me as Spider-man.”

She allowed for a flicker of surprise to pass across her features, but then immediately raised an eyebrow, folded her arms, and said, “Prove it.”

Wow. Like father like daughter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess who's about the be in this fic? If you guessed Aunt May then you are correct, congrats!
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
>  


	8. Meetings: Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dinner parties man, do they ever go well in the Parker household?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ARE YOU EXCITED FOR AUNT MAY? I AM. I love her so much you have no idea fav character in the entire Marvel universe.
> 
> Also, comic canon? More like do whatever I want because of the beauty of fanfic. So, yeah, she's not married to JJJ senior in this fic and is a bit younger but not much because I said so.

[You're going to fuck this up, you know that right?]

{Honestly I'm pretty surprised we made it this far.}

[Well, after you make a horrible mess of this evening he's never going to want to talk to you again, so I wouldn't be to concerned about getting any further.]

{But he showed us his face! He invited to see his family! Holy shit I think he actually likes us! Well, not us per se, but definitely you. Do you think he'd like me? I'd love to get in that pretty head of his, I bet it's all sciencey and stuff!}

[No way man. He can't like us that much. I'm still saying this is an act. His “aunt” is probably some agent of whatever that's going to lock us up again. Remember the last time that happened? You got rid of us and you got all depressed and shit. And you made a chick kill herself! Good times.]

{Things sure have changed, haven't they? Anyway, don't fuck this up pretty please. Unlike grumpy ol' whitey, I _like_ Petey! And I wanna touch the butt. Just be nice okay?}

_Thanks for the advice, you two are just so helpful. Anyway, she's coming to the door now oh crap abandon ship abort mission oh god._

[Oh calm the fuck down you're wearing the image inducer, she can't see how hideous you are. Just keep every little aspect of your personality hidden from her and I'm sure you'll only somewhat destroy their lives.]

_Shutupshutupshutupshutupshutup._

Wade forced a smile on his face, which became slightly less forced when he turned to both Preston and Ellie, getting small nods of encourage from each. Oh, yeah, Preston came. Speaking of which

{Flashback time?}

[Flashback time.]

_As soon as Peter did a cool spider trick, talked to Ellie (and maybe a little to Wade as well) about responsibility and secrets and what not, and ran out because he had a class, Wade sprinted over next door and began to pound on the door._

_“Pres! PRES OPEN UP I NEED HELP! A CUTE BOY ASKED ME TO MEET THE PARENTS WHAT DO I DO!?”_

_She opened up the door, muttering curses under her breath._

_“Goddammit Wade I was having a nice afternoon off. Now what exactly is your issue?”_

_“Spider-man's being super nice and invited me to come visit his aunt and I don't know what to do because I'm going to fuck up so bad.”_

_“Oh, he invited you to meet May? You'll have no trouble, Wade, she's a lovely woman. I'm sure you two will get along splendidly.”_

_“Wh-...wait you knew about the whole secret identity thing entire time? When? How?”_

_“Wade, I'm a SHEILD agent, I have access to things like this. So, yes, I know Peter Parker is Spider-man.”_

_“Does every SHEILD agent know? Because honestly at that point it's hardly a 'secret' identity.”_

_“Well, actually, no. I'm not technically supposed to know, but once Spider-man started visiting more often I went a little “overprotective mom” and did some digging into Director Fury's files. My fears were pretty much alleviated once I found out that he was raised by May.”_

_“And you know May Parker because...?”_

_“Oh, yeah, she was on my roller derby team. Sweetest person I ever met, but she could kick some serious butt.”_

_“So, you'll help me out?”_

_“What, exactly, do you want me to do?”_

_“Well, since you asked, I was kind of hoping you could come with me to the dinner thing Pete invited me to. You're one of the few people I know who always seems to actually know what she's doing and you're the best buffer between me and ruining everything and honestly I kind of need the moral support.”_

_“Wade you are a grown man. I think you can handle it.”_

_“Pres, you've been inside of my head. You of all people should know that that might be an extreme overestimation of my abilities.”_

After about five more minutes of back and forth, Preston finally gave in and, as a direct result, was now standing at his side. Ellie was on the other side, holding his hand and bouncing impatiently on her heels. She had insisted on dressing nicely, so she looked about 200% more fabulous than any one else there. Wade took more comfort in their presence than he cared to admit, though he was still about 2.0 seconds away from either running away or stabbing something. However, he didn't get the chance as the door was already opening. 

There to greet them was an older woman, with defined cheekbones, white hair in a pixie cut, and a welcoming smile. Her eyes lit up when she saw them all, immediately pulling Preston in for a hug as she said, “Emily! It's wonderful to have you here, I feel like we haven't seen each other in such a long time!”

“Always a pleasure May. Though I'm a bit wary of the meal tonight considering how likely you are to cook on any given day.”

May looked jokingly offended, scoffing as she replied, “Me? Cook poorly? Why I would never do such a thing! How dare you come into my house and insult me so.”

She then gave Preston a conspiratorial wink as she half-whispered, “Plus, the cooking isn't mine. Don't tell anyone, but the food is from a little Italian bistro down the street.”

“Your secret's safe with me.”

May gave a light laugh before turning to look at Wade more directly. Her smile widened even further, and she clasped her hands together in excitement.

“You must be Wade! Oh I'm so excited to meet you! And so handsome, I can see why Peter likes you so much.”

[Well that's a lie.]

“May Parker, if you keep flirting like that I may have to leave Peter for you.”

May tittered and swatted his arm in an “oh you” gesture as she said, “And you're funny as well! Just one of you many qualities that my nephew neglected to mention. I swear, that boy never tells me anything. It's like he wants me to worry! That's all right though, you'll just have to tell me everything about yourself over dinner.”

_Hello Peter's aunt whom I have already decided I adore and wish no ill will towards, my name's Wade Wilson, or the artist formerly known as “Deadpool”. Maybe you've heard of me, I used to kill people for money! Now I only kill when I have to, which is still more often than most sane people are comfortable with, but that's fine, because I am 100% certifiably institutionally **in** sane! I'm the archetype of crazy, you know, two voices in my head, the enduring and reoccurring thought that I'm nothing more than a fictional character, and, oh yeah, to top it all off, sometimes I get extreme flashbacks and hallucinations. And you can call me handsome now, but in all honestly I'm horribly disfigured due to never ending cancer, but I'm currently using a hologram to lie to you and avoid pitying looks! Pleased to make your acquaintance there May._

{Oh man, whitey was right, you might be totally screwed. Sorry bro.}

[Might be? Bitch please you're _certainly_ screwed and you know it. Have fun as you stumble your way through this evening, desperately try not to talk to us, and inevitably make an ass of yourself.]

“Eh, there's not that much to talk about. I work as a consultant, I'm a single dad, and I greatly enjoy the masterful television program _Golden Girls_.”

“Oh, I'm sure there's more to your life than that. Now who is this gorgeous girl at your side?”

Ellie stood up straight and smiled with pride, sticking out her hand and introducing herself. “My name's Eleanor Camacho, but everyone calls me Ellie. I'm his daughter and moral support for the evening.”

May happily shook her hand and said, “Well, Ellie, it's lovely to meet you! I look forward to hearing all to stories you must have.”

“Thanks ma'am, and trust me, I got plenty.”

May got a mischievous glint in her eye, telling Wade, “I like her,” right as Peter showed up front and welcomed them here. The small glance of disapproval at Wade's fake face didn't escape Wade's notice, but May was already one of his favorite people and the last thing he wanted to do was disgust her. In turn, he gave Peter a quick look that he hoped portrayed that he was mentally telling him to fuck off, before putting back on his best fake smile. 

“Wade! Ellie! Emily! You guys are here! That's awesome! Aunt May and I are in no way under prepared for this!”

“Oh Peter, shush, we're fine. We have food and the apartment is clean, I'm sure these three people will be perfectly happy here.”

Wade smirked smugly at Peter's discomfort, not that he was much more relaxed himself, but he could at least manage to fake being charming. Maybe. Hopefully. 

“May, you are absolutely right. Hell, when Peter first came over to my abode, the place was a total mess. And we only had junk food, so you're definitely hosting something nicer than we ever did.”

Peter couldn't help but smile, considering that he had been wearing bright red and blue spandex and the occasion was about as far from a dinner party as one could get. “To be fair, you were having a birthday party for a ten year old. I'd be more concerned if your house was clean at the time. That being said, I don't think I've seen your house look tidy since.”

“Oh, and I'm sure your apartment is oh-so-immaculate.”

Peter acknowledged the truth in that. His apartment was a mess, but, in his defense, he had about zero hours in the day to work on cleaning up. “You're not wrong.”

May was giving the two of them one of those smiles that suggested she knew something that they didn't. Wade felt mildly uncomfortable with that smile, so after faking a cough into his fist, he said, “So, uh, May, I hear you have a delightful totally homemade meal for us, and I personally know that Ellie is amongst the few of us that are starving.”

“Never fear, dear, a feast will await us in a moment, but I thought I could give you a brief tour. Of course, Emily has seen this all before, so I'll make Peter entertain her while I show you and Ellie around.”

Wade smiled, telling May, “That sounds perfect,” before mouthing “good luck” at Peter. Peter mouthed back a simple, “Why?” as Wade smirked and said, “You'll need it” before leaving the living room and being enchanting towards May.

As soon as Wade, Ellie, and May were out of earshot, Emily turned on him and sternly told him, “Listen here web-head, you and I have some things to discuss.”

Peter's eyes widened at her sudden change in demeanor, accidentally letting out a quiet, “Oh god.”

Emily's expression softened as she uncrossed her eyes and gave a slightly embarrassed chuckle.

“Sorry, I didn't mean to come across sounding like such a hard-ass. I guess S.H.E.I.L.D's influence has been a bit more powerful than I thought. I suppose it's just that when you've been _literally_ inside someone's head, when you've seen how much they've lost, well, you get a little protective of them. You should know that I _will_ defend Ellie and Wade as my own family, because they are family.”

Peter wasn't quite clear what she was implying, so he just replied with, “Okay?”

“What I'm saying, Peter, is that you make Wade and Ellie happy. They adore having you around, even before they knew who “you” were. Hell, ever since that birthday party, neither has shut up about you. It'd be endearing if it weren't annoying as hell. So if you're going to befriend them, make sure it's for the long run. I'm not doubting you, especially because you've already shown some commitment that was...pleasantly surprising. But you make sure that you don't hurt them. And don't let him hurt you either. Wade's rough around the edges, he can be rude and crass and Jesus Christ he does _not shut his trap_. Oh, by the way, pro tip: if he ever does get real quiet, you probably need to run.”

“Oh I'm well aware of that.”

“Good. Is he angry and afraid and occasionally really hard to put up with? Absolutely. But if you get past his defenses, if you finally get him to trust you, he'll be the most loyal man you've ever met. He'll steal your food, he'll tell jokes at the worst possible times, not that you're unfamiliar with that one area of his expertise, and he will go beyond the ends of the Earth to help you out. From what I've seen here today, you're well on your way to being part of the family.”

Peter smiled fondly, mentally filing this conversation under the “reasons to not regret revealing secret identity” list, which was already longer than he had expected. 

“Thanks, Emily. And don't worry, I have every intention of being here for the long haul.”

“Thats good to hear. One last friendly reminder: if you hurt either of them, I don't care if you are a superhero, I can and will kick your ass.”

“Noted.”

As Preston was interrogating Peter in the living room, May was showing off the admittedly not all that large apartment to Wade and Ellie, as well as asking them all sorts of questions that Ellie totally had covered. 

“The first stop is the guest bedroom, aka Peter's old room. I apologize for how much crap there is in here, you would think that after seven years he would have finally moved all of his stuff, but here I am, still finding the occasional science kit or textbook that he never bothered to come get. Anyway, if either of you ever need a place to stay, you'll always have a warm bed here.”

Wade couldn't help but be amused at the “101 cool experiment ideas” book that was left abandoned in the closet. Maybe he could convince Peter to give Ellie some of his old crap, she had been begging for a science kit ever since Peter started hanging out more. He was trying not to encourage it too much, considering that “scientist” was pretty much the number one on the list on the list of “evil occupations” but since Peter seemed like one of the good ones,he'd probably let it slide. 

“Thanks for the offer, May. It's deeply appreciated. With all these old experiments and books and whatnot, you'd think that Peter was some kind of nerd in high school.”

“Oh, dear lord, yes, he was. Now, I love that boy like he's my own son, but the poor thing was terribly awkward and horribly shy. Always threw himself into his studies to avoid being too social, and couldn't talk to a girl if a gun was against his head. Then again, considering how nervous he is about you, I'm not sure he's become all that much more competent in that regard.”

Wade was speechless, which as frequent readers should know, was quite a rarity. He felt a slight blush rise up on his cheeks, which, for fuck's sake, was he an anime character now, pull yourself together Wilson. 

“I..uhhh...ummmmmm...”

[A+ stammering there. Really pulled it together.]

{Shit! Say something! Come on things were going so well!}

Here to save the day was one Eleanor Camacho, ten year old extraordinaire. 

“Jeez, Dad, don't be so shocked. Pete is still a big nerd, is it really that surprising that he was back in the day?”

Wade snapped out of it, mouthing a “thank you” at his daughter who gave him a wink of acknowledgement.

“You know what Ellie, you're totally right, he really is. Though I think he's a hell of a lot less shy than you're describing. Hell, he's nearly as vivacious and charming as myself, wouldn't you say, May?”

A slight chuckle emanated from May, who seemed to actually be enjoying his company. Her smile got slightly more wistful as she told him, “Well, I suppose high school is rough for the best of us, don't you think?”

Wade was about to agree, when he realized that he had _no idea_ if high school had been rough for him. It was likely, but now that he actually tried to recall it, there was a blank spot in his memory. Was he a jock, a stoner, a nerd? Was he even in high school? Did he graduate? Holy crap did he need to get a G.E.D because honestly that sounded like so much more work than he was willing to put up with so he sure hoped not. Damn, that tabula drug really _did_ do a number on his memory. However, May didn't need to know any of that right now or actually ever, so he just nodded and said, “Oh, yeah, definitely. It was real bad May, I personally decided to go through the whole “explore yourself” thing that's usually reserved for college. Went through a brief Ayn Rand phase. It was not good. Then weirdly enough overshot in the other direction and decided to go Marxist. Basically high school was when I decided to protest pretty much everything. Not good, not good at all.”

[Remember kids, when all else fails, blatant lying will serve you well.]

{In our defense, we don't actually know that was a lie. That doesn't sound all that outrageous for us.}

[Eh, we probably weren't that politically active. Metal-head sounds more up our alley.]

{Shit, we should've talked about our shoulder length hair and copious amounts of black band shirts.}

[We could've, but honestly would we have even regretted that sort of phase? Once a metal-head always a metal-head, ya know?]

{You have a fair point. But hey, as long as we don't remember anything about it, we might as well assume that it was awesome and that we had no regrets! As far as we know, we were super popular, never got bullied, were admired by peers and adored by teachers, and we totally got to hook up with the prom queen after the dance.}

[Nah, we never did anything with Cindy. Did nearly make out with the prom king though. No clue what the guy's name was. OH HEY, looks like we do vaguely remember something.]

“Will you two shut UP?!”

Ellie and May both looked back at him with slightly hurt and shocked expressions. Shit, he had said that out loud as they were headed to the kitchen. Instead of an explanation, he just said, “Sorry, not you two. You guys are fine please continue with whatever it was that you were discussing.”

[Way to let the crazy slip there, Slick. You made it a whole 15 minutes.]

To her credit, May was surprisingly good at shrugging off his outburst, bouncing back immediately with, “Actually, Ellie and I were just finishing up our conversation, for we have finally arrived at the kitchen/dining room.”

Deciding to go for dramatic flair, May walked up to the table, shouted, “And now, the moment you've all been waiting for!” (much to the embarrassment of Peter) as she pulled off the sheet and presented the assortment of pastas and breads and salads laid out for consumption. Even though she sort of cheated by ordering out, the sight still made all of their mouths water.

May looked proud of her decision to completely avoid cooking, even doing a slight jazz hands as she told everyone to, “Eat up! There's plenty for everyone!”

Preston offered to get drinks, bringing May with her and using the time to briefly catch up on everything. Peter served up food to Ellie and Wade, one of which immediately dug into her food and gave her thanks through a mouthful of spaghetti. She obviously learned her manners from her father. Wade was actually polite enough to wait for Peter to come sit down next to him, though not polite enough for him to not put him feet on the table as he leaned back, draping one arm across the back of the chair. He began to inspect his nails (no it was _not_ mostly just to avoid eye contact shut up) as he said, “So, Petey, this is by far the longest dinner party I've ever attended.”

Peter looked up at him with an eyebrow raised as he said, “Wade, it's been like, 20 minutes.”

“I know, that's a record! The last one I went to got bloody in less than 10. Oh don't give me that look I didn't do anything. Bob just can't be trusted with cutlery, and, well, Weasel flat out can't be trusted. Ahh, good times.”

Ellie swallowed her garlic bread to give her Dad a sardonic look as she said, “Dad, don't act all nostalgic that was last weekend.”

“So you can verify my story.”

Peter then looked up and squinted in thought, trying to sort through his thoughts. 

“Wait, wasn't I at your house last weekend?”

“Yeah, but you were asleep upstairs.”

“Ooooohhh, so that's why the curtains were in tatters when I woke up.”

“I told you Weasel did it. So, yeah, I'm just sayin', this is going surprisingly well.”

“I actually totally get what you're saying. I swear, every time I try to spend some time with Aunt May, some super villain tries to blow up the city and I have to come up with some lame excuse-”

“Wait, wait, wait, hold up, why do you have to come up with an excuse? Why aren't you just like, 'lol Spider-man time I need to go May k thnx bye. Have you seriously not told your glorious ray of sunshine aunt that you're a super hero?”

“Well, uhhh..”

“Oh my god, you haven't told the person who raised you about yourself, but you told some asshole that you watch too many Pixar movies with? That's a little fucked up, bro.”

“Hey, listen here, I have a perfectly good and rational reason for..”

At that moment, Preston and May returned to the dining area, chatting away about Preston's experience in a brand new robot body, which quickly made Wade and Peter stop talking. Wade slammed his feet to the ground and tried to sit in a more socially acceptable pose, turning on the charm as best as he could.

“May, this spread is absolutely amazing. It seems like all those long hours in the kitchen paid off.”

May was smiling through her hands as she sat down at the head of the table, telling him, “Oh, Wade, this much flattery will get you nowhere.”

Wade was giving his most charismatic smile, which, let me tell you, looks a hell of a lot less like a grimace when you look like a rom-com star than it does when you look like Freddy Krueger. 

“Well, perhaps it won't win me any favors, but it's most certainly worth it to see your gorgeous smile.”

Ellie groaned slightly and rolled her eyes at her dad's cheesiness, but continued to enjoy her meal. Preston made eye contact with him before raising her drink and giving him a slight nod, a minor praise to tell him that he was doing well. Peter looked uncomfortable though slightly entertained, which was becoming a near constant state of existence for him since he started being Wade's friend. Aunt May wasn't used to this many compliments in one evening, though she certainly wasn't complaining.

“Well, that's enough about me, I haven't heard nearly enough about you. For example, how did you and Peter meet? I'm sure that is quite the tale.”

Peter swallowed hard, nearly choking on linguine and mentally scrambling for a lie to tell. Wade smirked and pretended to wipe some dust off of his shoulder, trying to convey that he totally had this.

_Well, you see, there I was, back in my Cable and Deadpool days, all clad in red and black spandex..._

“Well, you see, there I was, the night of the masquerade ball, wearing a red and black mask, and I spot him from across the room. Even though our identities were hidden, the moment Peter's eyes met mine, I knew there was a connection between us that would transcend the years. Unfortunately, I had to run at midnight, lest the enchantment end and my horrible appearance be revealed unto my prince.”

May was polite enough to at least pretend to be entertained, while Peter groaned and began to rub at his temples.

“Wade, literally none of that happened.”

Wade stuck out his lower lip in an over-exaggerated pout, clasping his hands together and bringing them to his chest, giving Peter the largest and teariest puppy dog eyes that he could manage as he replied, “Aw, Petey, I wanted our first meeting to seem as magical and fairytale as our love, why did you have to ruin the story?”

Peter rolled his eyes and gave Wade a small shove that just made him laugh and bat his eyelashes at him, which Peter decided to solidly ignore and turn back to May while holding back Wade with one arm. 

“What actually happened wasn't quite so...Cinderella story. See, Aunt May, Wade and I frequent the same little hot dog joint. One day I was walking by, and was honestly kind of starving but had approximately zero dollars, as per usual. I guess I stared longingly enough at the food or my stomach rumbles were loud enough for others to take notice, because next thing I know a bag of chips and hot dog are placed in my hands as a slightly gruff voice tells me to “enjoy”. I look up, and a guy in a red hoodie, the hood covering his face, is walking away from me. I run to catch up to him and try and thank him, and actually end up making it. I thanked the guy and offered to go grab some coffee some time, he accepts, and, well, Wade and I became friends pretty quickly after that.”

As May tells Peter that it was a lovely story, Wade can't help but smirk. Apparently Petey Pie was better at lying than he initially thought. Then again, maybe he wasn't. The story sounded strangely familiar...  
Wade's eyes widened a little when he realized that it wasn't a lie. That totally actually happened. Well, some of it, at least. It was before Wade knew Peter, but he had bought a poor starving kid some food. However, in reality, when the guy ran to give his thanks, Wade vanished into a nearby alley way. He was honestly kind of impressed that Peter remembered it when he hadn't, and his heart fuckin' melted like a stereotypical school girl with a crush when Peter gave him a small smile after telling the story, as if to finally show his appreciation. _Jesus fuck Peter, who the hell gave you permission to be kawaii as shit all of the sudden?_

Wade was about .2 seconds away from staring at Peter's dumb face and dumb hair and dumb Bambi eyes before May thankfully distracted him when she asked, “So, Wade, you said you were a consultant. Care to share with the class?”

“Oh, yeah, um, I work with S.H.E.I.L.D most of the time...”

Wade's little spiel was interrupted by a sudden buzzing sound and brief shock on his wrist. Terror struck through his heart as he looked down at the image inducer, currently disguised as a watch. Judging by the sharp arcs of electricity that were coming from it, it was shorting out. Which meant that his clever ruse was currently in the process of being foiled. ,em>No no no no no.

He knew what was coming. He knew exactly what was happening. He could feel it on his skin, crawling all over his flesh like a thousand fire ants. Still, it hurt when he lifted his eyes from his wrist and saw them staring at him, at the abomination that he is. He felt like he was being buried alive, like he was drowning on dry ground, unable to stand the confusion, the revulsion, the fucking pity. Everything in him seized up, and he knew he had to pick either fight or flight instantaneously. Since he actually _liked_ these people, he decided to flee. 

He stood up fast enough to knock his chair over and accidentally slam his palms on the table. Without looking anyone in the eye, without having to see them staring, he spit out a hurried, “I'msorryIhavetogo” and begun to exit from the kitchen. As he was heading out, he told Preston to take Ellie home because he “needed some fresh air”. The second he left through the door of the apartment, he began to sprint, desperate to get out of that building, out of that neighborhood, just _out_. Gone. Even when he bolted through the complex and got outside, that feeling of panic that had gripped his chest and made his breathing erratic at best refused to leave. So he continued to run. If he didn't move, he would completely break down, and worse, he would start thinking. He would think about how badly he had messed up, how easily it had been revealed he was a freak, he would think about how much he could feel Aunt May stare. Great, he had horrified the woman. Awesome job Wade. So much for getting along with the parents. 

His breath was only coming in gasps, tears beginning to form as he continued to flee the scene, and he knew that if he didn't calm down soon he was going to pass out and everything would catch up to him. But he couldn't stop. Not now. He had to keep going, had to get far, far away from them, that place, from the _stares._

His vision was blurring, and the edges of his sight was going black. He knew he was going to collapse soon enough, but his feet continued to pound the ground. He wouldn't...he couldn't stop, couldn't go back, couldn't face any of them right now, or, preferably, ever. 

Unfortunately, he wasn't going to be the one to decide whether or not he would be facing any of them, for a hand placed on his shoulder (and a surprisingly strong grip) stopped him in his tracks. His legs came out from under him and he crumpled to the ground. He took his pathetic state as an opportunity to get back some of his breath and allow his eyes to clear up before looking up at the person that stopped him. He had a hunch about who it was, and he really wasn't ready to face him just yet.

After a couple seconds, (he really should have taken a couple minutes before looking up, but he wasn't exactly one for doing what he should) he tilted his head up to see the kind eyes of Peter Parker, confirming his suspicion. Seeing that face made him break down once again. It was compassionate and hopeful and young and wonderful and fine as hell, the opposite of everything Wade was. Despite the fact that Peter had seen his face before, he desperately wished that he had a mask or a hood or even a fucking brown bag to cover up his face. He didn't want Peter to see him, to look at him and discover just how ugly he truly was, for the illusion to finally be broken. Mostly, he needed to hide. So while he had no mask and no cover, he pulled up his knees, placed his arms on top of them, and buried his face in his arms. It took him a few moments to realize that he was rocking slightly back and forth, and everything hit him at once. The boxes were screaming at him right now, so much louder and crueller than usual. He knew he couldn't get them to shut up, and he knew he couldn't face Peter, so he just whispered, “ _imsorryimsorryimsorryimsorryimsorry”._

And miraculously, Peter replied, “It's okay.”

Peter had forgiven him. By some act of God or Stan Lee or whatever, Peter wasn't angry. Damn. The kid really was too good for him. Slowly, he tilted his head to look at Peter, who was standing, smiling slightly, and offering his hand. Peter motioned with his head, still smiling as he said, “Come on.”

In a voice that was harsher and gruffer than Wade intended, he replied with a straightforward, “I'm not going back.”

“I never asked you to.”

Peter glanced at his hand and shook it slightly, before looking back to Wade and saying, “Let's go for a walk.” 

Hesitantly, Wade grabbed Peter's hand to help haul himself up, and once he was standing again, he patted himself off and tried to fake his usual happy-go-lucky demeanor. He realized that he just couldn't muster up that level of cheerfulness, at least not quite yet, he settled for at least pretending to be a normal human adult instead of the hurt and scared child he was as of three seconds ago. 

“So, sweetums, where exactly you taking me, because for once in my life I'm not actually in the mood for a strip club.”

Peter stuck his hands in the pockets of his jacket and gave a shrug.

“Not sure. I didn't actually have a destination in mind.”

“Huh. All right.”

The walked for a few moments in silence, which, while probably comfortable for Peter, was slightly agonizing for Wade. Luckily, Peter broke the silence by saying, “Oh hey, I actually have a question for you.”

_Oh god._ Wade took a moment to mentally prepare himself for the worst, and after a sharp inhale and exhale, he tried to sound calm as he said, “Shoot.”

“Why the hell are they still coming out with new episodes of _Fairly Odd Parents_?”

Oh thank god, it was a pop culture conversation. He could handle that right now. He was slightly confused until he saw the sly glint in Peter's eyes, and he realized, the guy knew that this was exactly what he needed. Shit. Homeboy was perceptive. 

“You know, I honestly have no clue. It's been pretty much down hill since that whole mpreg thing.”

“Yeah, and the live action movies certainly didn't do anything to help that show's reputation. Definitely a low point in Drake Bell's career.”

“Eh, some people say that about his portrayal of you, though I'm personally fond of it. You're so tiny in that show.”

“Wh..what?”

“Never mind. Anyway, you know what's the worst thing about the _Fairly Odd Parents_ thing? My daughter has brought shame to our family and dishonor to our cow, for she actually likes the talking dog.”

Peter faked a gasp and disparaged expression, placing a hand over his heart as he said, “Oh my! I thought you were raising her better than that!”

Wade held up his hands in surrender, telling him, “Hey, don't blame me that was all Joshua's influence. I'm trying to get her into actually good shows, like _Steven Universe._ ”

“Haven't heard of it.”

“BrUH. You need to come over, sit your ass down, and watch this gem of a show.”

{Ha! Gem. Nice one.}

[Poor Petey, doesn't even understand that that was a pun. Our pitiful uneducated sweetheart.]

Peter gave him one of those damn smiles again, eyes fucking lighting up like his senpai finally noticed him, and said, “Sounds like a plan. Mind if I come over tomorrow?”

“Not at all.”

In that moment, Peter wanted to apologize, to say that he was sorry for rushing Wade into things like family dinners and trying to make a good impression with his aunt. He wanted to promise that he wasn't going to push Wade into anything anymore, even if part of him knew he couldn't guarantee that. 

He didn't. 

In that moment, Wade wanted to thank him, for, well, everything. For understanding that he was a mess, but seeming to accept it anyway. For knowing when he needed to talk about real things, and when he would be better off discussing cartoons. For not thinking of him as a freak or a murderer. For not viewing him like he viewed himself. 

He didn't.

But for now, the silence was okay.


	9. Meetings: Part 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A day in the life of one May Parker

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh hey looks like I haven't updated this fic in forever #oops haha please forgive me  
> also I was real slack on editing this chapter sorry for that  
> but hey on the plus side you know get even more Aunt May isn't that pretty great
> 
> also let's be real Aunt May one hundred percent knows that Peter is Spider-man and has since he was like fifteen because that boy is just the _worst_ at lying

The alarm began to blare the moment that 6 am struck. May quietly dismissed it; she had already been up for an hour. Getting old was strange. Ever since she could remember, she had been a night owl. She kind of _had_ to be, considering that she was frequently working night shifts at the hospital. After she had retired, however, she found herself rising at an earlier and earlier hour, until the alarm was awake long after she was. At first she had tried (and failed) to stick to her old ways, which meant that she was going to bed at 1 am and getting up at 5 am, but it wasn't long before she was asleep by nine. Ugh. She felt so stereotypical, especially on the days she was having dinner at four o'clock. If she wasn't careful, soon she'd be far too enthusiastic about murder mysteries and muttering “kids these days” to herself. 

Still, there was some benefit to naturally waking up so early. There's never a more peaceful time of the day than watching the sunrise and softly sipping tea, and even though New York never sleeps, it was more relaxed at 5:30 in the morning. Sometimes, when the skyline blocked out too much of the sky, she would even venture out to the roof, tutting lightly at the discarded scraps from some party that one of the younger residents inevitably held. About the half of the time there was another restless neighbor that she would chat lightly with, the other half of the time lent itself to a nice moment of peace in an ever busy city. This morning, there was no one else, so she took the moment to breathe everything in, before remembering that it was the city and the concept of “fresh air” was muddled at best. She thought about her schedule that day, and upon realizing that she was clear, she considered stopping by Central Park and walking around the foliage. It would be a rather pleasant escape, assuming that it wasn't under attack, which now that she thought about it, was more often than not. She would have to check the news later in the day, which she planned on doing anyway. 

Checking the television and the Internet for any invasions, battles, or just general insanity had been a regular habit for the past decade or so, since her nephew had decided to take up the whole “superhero” gig. While she was disgusted by how many publications were calling Peter, ahem, _Spider-man_ a menace, the coverage they provided of him always helped determine just how much she had to worry about the situations he got himself into. That boy was going to give her a heart attack one day, she could tell. Still, she was proud of him, going out there and putting himself in stupidly dangerous situations for the sake of the greater good. Not that she could tell him that, because _someone_ had neglected to actually ever _tell_ her that he was a _masked vigilante._ Besides, she had plenty of other things to be proud of her nephew for; he was a wonderful child with many accomplishments that _didn't_ make her concerned for his health and safety. 

However, at six am, Peter was not likely to be out and about, swinging his way through down town, so she didn't feel the need to worry at the moment. She wandered back downstairs to her apartment, taking in a moment to take everything in. Her home was immaculate, everything neat and tidy and put into its place. Usually, she'd feel like that was an accomplishment, but lately, it was always neat and tidy. Clearly, she had too much time on her hands. Some days, her apartment was her home, where she could knit or read or even try her hand at painting (which, honestly, she was terrible at). If she was truly desperate, she may even attempt at cooking a meal, end up throwing it out, and ordering Chinese. Some day, she should really take a cooking class. Today was not that day. She had gone sixty some years without learning to cook, she saw no reason to start now. 

She gave a slight frown at the apartment. It was one of those days that it felt less like a home and more like a confinement. Too quiet, too stifling, too orderly. May paused to consider if she could suffer empty nest syndrome several years after her child had moved out, but then shook it off by deciding that she just was bothered by the emptiness in general. There was the option of inviting friends over later in the day, but it wasn't a particularly appealing option. That was much more of remedy when she was feeling an aching loneliness, and while those days happened more often than she cared to admit, now was not one of those times. No, it was something else, like the apartment was somehow too much and not enough all at once. Frowning some more, she realized that the place made her feel like she couldn't quite catch her breath, that the walls were moving closer and trapping her in. Obstinate against such feelings, May shook her head and decided enough was enough, that she needed a walk at the very least, if not a full blown adventure. However, as she was about to close the door behind her and make her way out of the building, a sudden thought struck her.

_Wade Wilson._

She knew nothing about the man, and what happened with the dinner party raised more questions than answers. He seemed like a genuinely nice fellow in the small amount of time that she had met him, and his daughter was absolutely darling, and Peter was rather enamored with this man and...that was the extent of her knowledge. Oh, that and he was a friend of Emily's. There was no reason for May to be concerned, and she hardly doubted Peter's choices in friends, but surely just doing a simple Google search couldn't do any harm. It's not like she was doing a full blown background check, she wasn't _that_ overprotective of her nephew. Just a quick check for any red flags or things she should be aware of. After all, it would just be _irresponsible_ of her to not do anything to get to know the mysterious man who Peter had grown so fond of, and the Parkers were not known for their irresponsibility.

Still, she didn't feel like being at her apartment, so a walk to the library for her Internet access didn't seem unreasonable. It was only about twenty minutes away anyway, and May was nothing if not patient. Considering that it was still around 6 am and she didn't live in a particularly busy area, her journey was relatively uninterrupted. Well, uninterrupted by other people. She did perhaps stop by a local bakery to pick up some pastries for later, and wander through a previously unnoticed book store for a few moments. So her twenty minute walk took closer to forty, but she could hardly complain about being able to explore her area. When she did finally reach the library, however, she didn't mull about, instead immediately heading to the computers and beginning her (totally noninvasive and reasonable) research on the man who had run from her home last week.

She wasn't the type to dig in too deep, though she probably could get a favor from SHEILD if need be, instead settling for typing “Wade Wilson” into the search bar. A few things popped up, including a 56 year old quarter back and a someone that had founded an art gallery, but none of the results appeared to be the person she was looking for. All right, that wasn't immediately suspicious, it was quite possible that he didn't have much of an online presence. In light of these findings, May decided to go for a different approach, searching for people close to him rather than the man himself. She already knew everything she needed to know about Emily Preston and her nephew, so the obvious choice was to search for “Eleanor Camacho”. 

She dismissed a couple of hits, before wandering over an old news article, from about two years back titled, _Young Girl Found Dead, Costumed Man Suspect In Case._

At first, she was going to ignore the link, because the little girl she had talked to was very much alive and walking, but her eyes caught a picture of the at the time eight year old child who was in the photo. It was undeniably the girl she had in her apartment only a week before, yet all the reports clearly outlined her death. May began to rub her temples, on the verge of regretting her decision to snoop into the lives of others. What was worse was that none of this came as nearly as much of a shock as it should have. _Of course_ Peter had friends that made no sense whatsoever. Now, her nephew, bless him, had done his best to keep the most insane parts about his, um, career, separate from her, but that hardly meant that nothing slipped through the cracks. Clones, false deaths, and body possessions were much more commonplace than they should be, borderline normal when your nephew decided he should swing from buildings and punch bad guys every night. Still, she would like some answers as to why Peter was spending so much time with a man who didn't exist and a supposedly dead girl, preferably from the people themselves.

Which was actually rather convenient, since as she was scrolling through articles, her phone began to buzz. It was an unknown number, so she decided to shrug it off and continue her now half-hearted research, until she heard her voice-mail start. 

“Um, hello? This is, uh, Wade Wilson, um, I got your number from Peter? Yeah, so, uh, he's kind of been nagging me to call you all week, assuming I have the right number..Oh man that would be really bad if this was one of my former employers if so please disregard this but if it's May Parker then-”

May immediately scrambled for her phone, fumbling slightly and taking more time than she cared to admit to actually answer the phone. Wade was going on about deleting former contacts when she said, “Yes, hello, Wade? This is May Parker.”

“Oh, you actually picked up. That's ...great? Yes, no, it's good, um, so, sorry I kind of fucked up last week. Shit! I'm not supposed to to say fuck in front of old ladies, I mean, crap, not that you're old but like I meant matronly, wait, that's not that much better oh shit can I start over?”

May had to stifle a laugh, trying to sound compassionate as she could when she replied, “Oh sweetie, you really have no need to be so nervous around me. And I don't mind being called old, I am old. Still don't how that happened, I swear I was thirty yesterday, but I don't mind it. Now what's troubling you, dear?”

“Oh wow you are really nice. Shit. This would be a lot easier if you were screaming at me, cause, um, in summary I really messed up because I panicked and am generally unable to handle things that I really _should_ be able to handle by now and in summary I'm sorry and can I make it up to you by taking you to lunch this afternoon or really whenever is convenient for you or if not that's cool too just please don't tell Peter if you hate me because if you do that I'm super screwed and not in the fun way and FUCK I can't believe I just said that I'm so sorry.”

“Lunch this afternoon sounds lovely dear, lord knows my schedule is clear. There's a lovely little cafe I could recommend, if you would be interested. Though I do have one request.”

“Shoot.”

“I would prefer that you come as yourself. I like to meet people as they are. Though I would like to apologize for my staring, that was rude of me.”

There was an uncertain pause, and May hoped she hadn't overstepped her boundaries, but she was reassured by the voice at the other end telling her, “Yeah, I guess I could do that. And the staring really a'int that bad, comparatively. Least you didn't puke the first time you saw me, so, hey, you're leaps and bounds ahead other people.”

“Oh honey, that's awful..”

“May, seriously, I've had this ugly mug for a long time, I'm pretty damn used to it. And only like four people have ever had _that_ extreme of a reaction, so, yeah, it's fine. Anyway, uh, when and where is lunch going to be happening?”

“How does 54th and Broadway sound? Around 1 o'clock?”

“That sounds perfect, May, I'll see you then.”

With that, the call ended, and May couldn't help but give a slightly amused shake of her head. The young man's nervousness when conversing with her was nonsensical at best, after all, she was just an old woman who had never once been described as “intimidating”, even in her younger years. Plus, considering how enigmatic Wade was, and how he was one of Peter's friends, she had much more reason to be anxious about him rather than the other way around. Yet, she certainly wasn't. Though both Peter and herself had been known to have lapses in their character judgement, she believed that they'd both been exposed to enough evil people that they had a slightly better intuition on who was worthwhile. Wade hardly gave off super villain vibes, even though she suspected he had quite the past, one that wasn't readily available on Google. Big shocker there. (Honestly who in her life didn't have a tragic back story?)

That's why she was looking forward to lunch this afternoon. May prided herself on her knack to get people to open up, usually through a combined method of hot beverages, sweet food, and soft words. Perhaps she should have been a part of S.H.E.I.L.D., she was a master of interrogation, and she was better at keeping secrets than she had ever intended to be. People are _always_ falling for the old “senile old woman” routine. So, yes, she was going to attempt to extrude some information from the man. She felt the need to know more. Of course she did. A natural curiosity combined with a protective instinct combined to make one hell of a knowledge seeker. 

Still, lunch wasn't for several more hours, so she found herself with some time on her hands, assuming she wasn't going to be in a blockade because some super villain was doing some such thing. Eh, she wasn't anywhere near Times Square, so she should be fine. 

…

You know, now that she thought about it, she should really move out of New York, considering that immediate threats to her life were fairly often occurrence. Then again, she loved this city, and she'll be damned if she was going to retire to Florida. Maybe she should just go up state. She hears the foliage is lovely. Eh, she'll seriously consider moving next year, as if she hasn't been saying that to herself for the past, oh, thirty years or so. 

May quickly shook off thoughts of ever truly leaving. Even if she had moments (weeks) of doubting that this was the best place for her, she didn't think that she could bring her self to be too far away from the many people she adored in her area. Plus, well, the library that she was currently strolling through was rather nice, and she decided to take a moment in between logging off from the computer and searching for new novels to occupy her time to appreciate the architecture. It was Gothic and gorgeous, with high arched ceilings and subdued colors, giving it a rather scholarly feel. She couldn't help but do a soft hum in contentment, and feel grateful towards her past self for getting her out of the apartment. She then took her time to look through the stacks, picking up novels here and there that she knew she would have plenty of opportunities to get through. 

She stepped out of the library feeling generally better about her life choices, and she swore to God, not two minutes later the Green Goblin showed up. Jesus, she wasn't even in a particularly interesting or busy district, he must be desperate if he was raising trouble here. Anticipating what was about to come with the arrival of the evil cackle, she calmly placed her books and gave a deep sigh when she felt an uncomfortably scaly arm wrap around her waist. She supposed she should have started screaming once ol' Goblin boy was lifting her in the air, if only to help maintain her “oh me I'm just a helpless old woman” defense, but after the 20th or 30th time being kidnapped by a super villain, she was kind of over it. She sighed, rolled her eyes, and couldn't help but think, “Oh yay this again.” She then cleared her throat and assumed her best “scolding voice” and looked Green Goblin directly in the eye and told him, “Norman Virgil Osborn you will lower me down this instant! And I do not mean drop me, I mean politely lower me to atone for your disrespect towards an elder! I have a lunch this afternoon and I hardly want to skip it in favor of being locked in some smelly old warehouse waiting for whatever street level superhero you've delusionally warranted a vendetta against this time!”

“Silence, feeble woman! I will listen to no such demands of yours.”

She raised her unrestrained arms and crossed them, and replied with “Ex _cuse_ me? Feeble woman? Oh honey for a criminal mastermind you really are stupid. I'm a woman in her sixties who has never hurt a fly and even I know that the first rule of being in a battle is to not underestimate your enemy. It's really not hard to understand. And yes, I'm aware that I'm just bait in a larger scheme, blah blah, yadda yadda, but I have nothing but time and connections and if you don't let me down this instant I promise your life will become much more difficult than necessary. Plus, if you let me down, come over, and coat check that attitude of yours, I'll let you have some lemonade. We haven't caught up in ages Norman. Perhaps if you could remove the scowl from your face and tamper down on that heart full of vengeance or whatever, you could stop by for a nice little chat.”

The sneer in Green Goblin's expression became more entrenched in his features, as he spat out, “Empty lies and false promises.”

“False promises? What false promises? The lemonade thing? Because I'll have you know that I make a mighty fine lemonade. True, I'm not the best at making consumable items, but my lemonade is divine. None of that concentrate or powder crap either. Freshly squeezed. But I do only offer it to people who aren't being nasty and making me take a flight I didn't buy a ticket for. All I'm saying is that you're wasting a perfectly lovely opportunity here to chat and drink liquid heaven. All you have to do is go down about, er, twelve feet and we'll be good.”

Now Norman was just scowling and blatantly ignoring her. Prick. Then again, he'd always been rude, even before the whole “criminal empire” thing. Figuring that she wasn't going to be able to convince him to let her down, that she'd really rather not spend the day locked in a warehouse, and that the fall really wasn't _that_ long ( she's survived worse. Her hip wouldn't be in the best shape, but she could almost certainly make it relatively unscathed, even at her age.), she decided to use the self defense classes she'd attended in her free time and kicked Osborn in the knee cap with all her might. She didn't know whether it was due to surprise, pain, or irritation, but she was successful in her quest to get Green Goblin to remove his grip on her. She relaxed her body, bent her knees, and managed to land on her feet. Granted, she fell to her side and rolled slightly, but it had been a relatively low impact landing. She was right about her hip though. _Ow_ She was going to need an Advil and some ice before she headed out to lunch. And probably some Neosporin for her scrapes. 

Deciding it was time to get a move on, she sat up and brushed herself off, before a friendly neighborhood hand was offered to her. She gratefully accepted, and stifled a laugh at the blatantly overabundant air of concern that Spider-man was giving up. Voice sounding slightly strained, her nephew asked, “Au-, um, ma'am, are you all right? Did he hurt you?”

It was in moments like these that she was tempted to say something like, “I'm just fine, _Peter_ ”, because really how he thought that he had successfully hidden his secret identity from her for the past decade was beyond her, but instead she replied, “Just fine, dearie. Now how about you stop fussing over some unknown old woman and go fight Green Goblin, before he gets too far?”

Peter, sorry, Spider-man gave a little nod and she could have sworn she saw an appreciative smile under the mask before he went swinging away, and she couldn't help but think _that's my boy_. God, she was proud.

It was only now that she realized that she had no idea where she had left her library books. She kind of shrugged it off, hoping that a good Samaritan might return them, but if not, she could afford the fees. She was, however, running slightly later than she had planned to, and standing up and walking was a bit more challenging (read:painful) than it was about twenty minutes ago, so she hailed a cab. Easy transport, she would have to put that under the list of pros to living in New York. As soon as she limped her way into the apartment (again: ouch), she grabbed her cane that she hated needing but loved getting support from on bad days and popped in some pain killers. She stumbled over to look at her sorry state in the mirror, and cringed slightly at the any various bruises and scratches that blossomed on her body. It _looked_ way worse than it felt, and she could actually say that with honesty because she was never one to have a particularly high pain tolerance. (Though if anyone ever called her frail she was legally in the right to slap them.) She considered canceling lunch this afternoon, but her curiosity won over any mediocre desire to not go out in her sorry state. Staring herself in the mirror, she gave a firm nod and began to get ready. After washing up and styling her hair and makeup as best as she could (she never learned how to properly cook and she never learned how to properly style anything. Sue her, she had always been more skilled as a nurse than as a housewife.), she still sort of looked like she had been mugged, but to a lesser degree. Like it had happened a couple of days ago rather than a couple hours ago. She grabbed her wallet and kept her cane by her side, heading back out into the city and hoping (not unreasonably) that the cafe she had mentioned was actually, you know, still standing. 

Luckily for her, the cafe was, indeed, still existing, and waiting outside was one Wade Wilson in jeans, a t-shirt, and a painful amount of scars. Though it was probably slightly mean to admit to herself, she felt a little better about her own slightly battered state. Funnily enough, upon seeing each other they both immediately asked, “Are you okay?”

She responded with, “Well, I've seen better days, but I'm fine.”

He replied with, “Hey, you were the one that wanted to see me au naturel. But yeah, I'm just dandy.”

She gave a little hum of acknowledgement. She was actually quite grateful that he had come without a disguise. While the scars looked uncomfortable at best, he actually had a rather nice face. Realizing that he probably didn't hear that enough, she blatantly told him, “I like the au naturel look. Suits you, Mr. Wilson.”

Wade immediately gave a derisive snort, his voice dripping with sarcasm as he said, “Oh, yeah, I'm drop dead gorgeous. I should be a fuck- er, sorry, freakin' model. Belong on the cover of god damn Vogue, let me tell you.”

“Well you do have a rather nice jawline.”

He threw her a smirk as he said, “Careful, May. You keep up with this flirtatious nature and you may replace Bea Arthur as my absolute fav.”

She couldn't help but give a light laugh at that, and proudly declared, “It would be an honor to be your new 'absolute fav', Wade. However, I believe that role may have already filled by my nephew.”

A wicked smile grew on her face as she saw the man blush and stutter. God, young people were fun. So easy to mess with. 

Wade forced down a swallow and quickly changed subjects ( _smooth_ ) by dropping his voice slightly and giving her a concerned look. 

“Seriously though, May, are you okay? Because some of those bruises look pretty damn nasty and I have like no frame of reference when it comes to injuries and normal people and -”

He was cut off by May quirking an eyebrow and asking with the slightest hint of amusement, “Normal people?”

Wade went stiff before trying to nail down an air of false confidence and saying, “I mean, yeah, I have a pretty high pain tolerance, 'cause, ya know, I'm just so manly and strong and tough and whatever.”  
“Bullshit. You have super powers, don't you?”

Wade gaped slightly and shrugged, saying, “Well, I mean, I wouldn't rule it out necessarily but, uh...”

“Honey, don't worry. Honestly, seeing as your Peter's friend and everything, I'd be more surprised if you _didn't_ have powers somehow. I mean, seriously, of the acquaintances I've met, I'd say over half have been supers. Johnny, Kamala, Carol, Matt, Miles, who, turns out, is from an entirely different universe, so that was interesting. Super powers, not a big deal.”

Wade didn't really have anything to say to that, and tried not to freak out about the fact that May had learned more about him in two minutes than any of the PTA members had in the past several months. He had to be careful around her. If he revealed too much more about himself or his past, well, he could kiss his chances of remaining friends with Peter goodbye. Oddly enough, a part of him actually believed that he could maintain a dorky and totally sane, one hundred percent harmless dad persona for the remainder of this lunch. After all, he'd had a lot of practice in the past couple of months, and the non-S.H.I.E.L.D. agent neighbors of his almost entirely bought his act. He could handle a bit of interrogation from May.

…

He could not handle a bit of interrogation from May. She was _really_ good at it. Seriously, she didn't even use forceful tactics or harsh tones. Nope, all it took was some coffee and some kind words and suddenly he was spilling his life story. The Parkers apparently don't fuck around when it comes to getting secrets out of people. 

Things had started out innocently enough. They entered the cafe, sat down, and placed their orders. After he had asked for black coffee and she had politely requested a panini, she looked him dead in the eye, the barest hint of a smile on her lips as she asked, “So, you wanna start with my tragic back story or yours?”

“What makes you think I have one? I mean, besides the major scarring and angry looking flesh, but hey, you don't know that those aren't from this one really wild bender I did in my twenties? Young adulthood is a messy time, May.”

She gave him a kind, slightly amused smile as she said, “Please, _everyone_ in New York has a tragic back story. Even myself.”

Wade snorted at that, replying, “Oh yeah, I'm sure the wonderful and perfect May has the darkest and most tremulous past. That would explain your totally grizzled and hard-ass attitude, right?” 

The smile stayed, though there was something else in her eyes as she took a sip of her coffee and gently said, “When's the last time you were scared?”

“Last week. There was a giant spider in the shower. It was downright terrifying.”

May gave a light tinkle of laughter, before a hint of something more pained glistened in her eyes. She took a moment to mentally steel herself, as if she was about to give a confession. 

“No, that's not quite what I mean. It's a specific type of fear that I'm referring to. However, it's slightly hard to articulate. It's not fear that comes from any sense of danger or adrenaline, but every time I feel it, it floors me. Luckily, it's a pretty rare type of fear. Lasts for weeks, makes you feel like you can't properly breathe the entire time. 

“I think the best way I can describe it is that you're scared because you know at that moment just how much you could ruin something. The feeling usually happens when you're at a crossroads. You have everything to gain or you have everything to lose, and you don't believe enough in yourself to think it will go well. Ever felt like that?”

The thought was quite a bit to process, and Wade found himself at an extremely rare loss for words. Her eyes scanned his face for a few moments in an attempt to gauge his reaction, before she continued on. 

“I've personally felt like this twice in my life. Both coincided with funerals, so you know this is going to be a fun story.”

“Anyway, the first time I felt that terror was when Mary and Richard Parker passed, and I suddenly had their five year old boy on my doorstep. See, Ben and I had agreed not to have kids. Ben was fine one way or the other, but I was avidly against the idea. Honestly, I myself was an accident. My parents always blamed me for the destruction of their marriage. In hindsight, I know now that their marriage failed because they were angry, bitter people who hated each other, but I had been raised on the idea that children were a curse and a burden. I feared that this young boy was going to ruin everything between Ben and I. I feared that I was too damn selfish and shallow to raise a child. Most of all, I feared that I was going to fail this kid, that my terrible parenting was going to mess him up for the rest of my life. I held on to that feeling for months, and then I started to grow up. I fought tooth and nail against my own selfish and antagonistic instincts to become a more kind and generous person. At least, I hope I did. I did my best to let go of my hate, which Ben helped immeasurably with, and tried with all my might to teach my boy not to be a spiteful or vindictive person. And for about ten years, I think I did pretty all right.”

“And then Ben was killed. This was the second time that I felt that clamp of fear on my lungs. God, those first couple months were horrible. I wouldn't relive them for all the wealth in the world. I never had felt as alone as I did then, and I haven't felt that alone since, thank the lord. My husband was gone, the desire for vengeance was rapidly making my nephew slip away, and I couldn't convince myself that I was good enough or strong enough to make it through this. As it turned out, even in my fifties, I still had quite a bit of growing up to do. However, if you asked me, I couldn't tell you how I survived. I honestly don't remember, and as much as I would like to give people advice on grief, I have none. Keep eating. Take showers on a regular basis. That's about all I got.”

“But somehow, I made it through. I slowly came out of the haze I had been stuck in, my nephew started to come back to the real world, and I felt like I let out a breath that I had been holding in for months. It was wonderful to breathe again.”

“Now that you know a little more about what I mean, I'm going to ask again, have you ever felt that way? Or am I just a crazy old woman?”

Wade let out an amused huff and found himself having difficulty making eye contact as a sore memory came to the surface.

“Yeah, I have actually.”

If you looked closely enough, you could detect the faintest bit of twinkle in May's eyes as she replied, “Ellie?”

Wade shot May a gun hand and said, “Exactly,” before swiping a hand across his features and letting out a self deprecating smile.

“It was pretty bad, actually. The first time I met her, I flat out, blatantly denied that she was my kid. Mostly because, thank god, she took after her mother in the looks department, and there was no flippin' way someone that beautiful was my kid. Well, that, and I was young and stupid and one hundred percent not ready to have a child in my life.”

May gave a sardonic chuckle at the comment as she said, “Oh, yeah, I can't relate to that _at all._ ”

A smile managed to tug at the corners of Wade's mouth even as he was mentally bracing himself to talk about something that was a bit of a sore spot, if we were being completely honest. 

[A bit? I don't think we've bothered to really talk about this to anyone, and yet here you are, blabbing to a woman you've known a whole, what, seven hours total?]

{Yeah bro, have you really thought this one through? And hell, if _we're_ asking that, shit's gotta be a bad idea.}

_Shut up assholes, I definitely totally absolutely know what I'm doing._

{*laughs to the tune of “What Makes You Beautiful”*}

[Have you ever known what the hell you're doing?]

_Fair enough. But I am nothing if not willing to make incredibly poor decisions that I will later regret._

“Anyway, it was quite a few years after that initial encounter before I saw Ellie again and...it wasn't good. Her...her mom was dead, because of me, and I, fuck, -”

Whatever words were supposed next were cut off by a hand gesture from May as she said, “Stop right there. Did you kill Eleanor's mother? I mean directly, whatever method caused her passing, as in did you pull the trigger to release the hypothetical bullet that made her meet her end?”

“Honestly, I may as well have 'cause, let me tell you-”

“Not what I asked.”

“...No. I didn't directly kill her. But seriously if she hadn't -”

“Nope. Listen to me Wade. I am finally old enough and experienced enough to figure something out. Guilt is terrible. There's no way you're gonna survive tragedy if you're constantly blaming yourself for things. Had to learn the hard way on that one. Blame the bad guys. Blame the ones that pull the trigger.”

_Fuck._

Despite every instinct that he ever possessed, Wade felt the words, “That's the thing though, May. I have pulled the trigger,” being torn out of him. 

_Double fuck._

{Man, this whole “feeling super guilty about killing all those assholes” thing isn't really all that fun.}

[Agreed. Why the hell did we try to become a better person when we could be stabbing something! Doesn't that sound better than this whole “respectable citizen” act you're trying to play?]

{And we wouldn't go that overboard. Just one or two hits to get the blood pumping, you know? It'd be a such a nice break from all the pathetic breakdowns you've been experiencing lately, amirite?}

[Definitely right. What happened to the badass Merc with a Mouth we all know and love?]

_He retired, assholes. Now shut up so that I can concentrate on backtracking like a boss._

May's eyebrows raised in an unspoken expression of “oh”, but, as far as Wade could tell, there wasn't disgust or fear in her expression, so he was counting that as a plus.

“Full disclosure May-”

_What the fuck am I saying._

{We're so fucked.}

[Affirmative captain.]

{Abort mission?}

[Abort mission.]

“I technically work as a weapons consultant for S.H.E.I.L.D now, which is pretty kick-ass actually because ho boy let me tell you I know _quite_ a bit about all kinds of weaponry, including those that don't even exist in our dimension, or hell, even our own mulitverse. That's right, I said multiverse. Earth 1218 has some neat shit, er, crap, May, let me tell you. They're just so cool. And Ellie's pretty into weaponry as well. She got real into katanas and various other swords, just like her old man. I'm so proud. Also, bonus, when I'm on a job, Fury actually lets me talk. It's amazing, I get to tell as many terrible puns about the obscure alien tech that I know can blast a guy's head off because Nickie boy is literally _paying me not to shut up._ It's great!”

[Stalling.]

{Dude, if we're gonna do this-}

[Which we really shouldn't]

{But if we are, just do it bro. Tear it off, band-aid style.}

The next words that were going to stupidly come out of his too big blabbering babbling mouth were sobering ones.

“But before my current line of work, I was kind of sort of maybe a little bit was a person who may or may not have, uhhhhhhhhh, wiped out people for money. Like an assassin, but, ya know, way less cool and with a lot less loyalty and occasionally I accepted soup as payment. Actually, yeah, screw it, I was mercenary, is what I'm saying. And, like, not to toot my own horn or anything, but I was _pretty_ good at it. One time I, well, not really I, a alternate version of me where the voices took a _really_ dark turn, oh, shit, I wasn't supposed to mention them, ignore I said that, any who, there's a version of me that took out almost all of the avengers at once, so that's impressive in my former line of work. Then again, being good at being a merc isn't exactly helping my case.”

{You didn't do it band-aid style.}

_Well, I'm sorry, but talking excessively has always been one of my defense mechanisms. #deal._

{That's my secret Cap. I'm always talking.}

[Luckily, the soup thing was only one time.]

_Hey, she was a sweet old lady, those guys were assholes, and it was damn fine soup._

May, to her credit, mostly just shook off the majority of the information that was being bombarded at her. Instead, in a voice that was miraculously curious rather than accusatory, “Did you ever kill someone innocent?”

{No?}

[Probably not?]

“Not this version of me, as far as I know.”

 

A vague shrug that Wade took to mean, “Fair enough,” came from May as she asked, “Ever kill any kids?”

“FUCK no! I mean, damn no! I mean, no.”

“Really? What if they were destined to become a supreme evil, capable of extreme destruction and mass slaughter?”

Shit. She didn't know that he was secretly harboring the kid apocalypse in the basement of one of his safe houses...did she? Nah. It was totally just a hypothetical, and an easy one at that.

“Man, screw that noise. Listen, yeah, maybe stuff will go down. But destiny's not something I put a whole bunch of stock in, and I don't care if some voodoo psychic visions say someone's gonna turn out bad. An eight year old just a'int evil, and their path isn't determined yet. So in summary, no way am I gonna kill a _kid_ because some jerkwad got a bad vibe.”

This appeared to be the correct response, as a fond smile spread across May's face.

“Well then, Mr. Wilson, it appears that you're light years ahead of Logan. Never liked that boy.”

A beat. Two, and then her words finally sunk in, and he gave an uncharacteristic snort of laughter. 

_I think I love this woman. Why was she not_ my _maternal figure?_

The laughter dissipated almost instantaneously as he noticed the dawning look on May's face. Oh, _this_ was going to be the moment where she realized how terrible he was. Awesome. And to think things were going well.

“Wait, you used to be a mercenary?”

“Uh, yeah, but, I quit a little over a year ago so..”

Her eyes narrowed in a studious expression before widening once more. Next, rather unexpectedly, she threw her head back in laughter. Full blown, clutching her sides, cracking up. 

A little breathless, she stammered out, “Oh- oh my god, you-you're Deadpool, aren't you?”

_Is it too late to move back to Canada?_

“Well, the artist formerly known as Deadpool, yes. Now I prefer the title Dadpool.”

She let out a few last huffs of amusement as she wiped away a trace of a tear.

“I'm sorry for laughing, honey, I didn't mean any offense. It's just that, well, I've heard stories.”

Honestly, of all the possible reactions that May could have to stories about his (past) alter ego, laughter was one of the best options. Especially since she seemed like she was laughing with him rather that at him, which was a pretty damn rare occurrence for him.

“Well, then, at least they've been amusing stories, and I do aim to please.”

The atmosphere had lightened significantly, and yet a niggling at the back of his head was about to make it come crashing down. _When was the last time you were scared?_ Awesome, this was going to be fun.

“But yeah, that's why I was kind of freaked out to meet Ellie the second time. Being a living weapon and being a dad don't really mix, and I didn't want that life to touch her. Unfortunately, it did, things got really, really messed up, and I had to rescue her. And even more unfortunately for me, she's a real smart kid and figured out that I was her dad in about five seconds.”

He let out a puff of air as he avoided eye contact and told her, “I'm kind of still terrified. More than I've been in a long, long time. I mean, yeah, I quit the merc life, but I didn't exactly keep my real identity that much of a secret. Didn't have a reason to, until now. I'm afraid that my past will still hurt her future.”

 _I'm afraid it already has,_ he didn't add. 

May gave a serene nod as she said, “I think I understand. Mary and Richard, Peter's biological parents, well, they were S.H.E.I.L.D agents, pretty high level, apparently. They didn't want Peter to get hurt by what they did either. That was actually how I started babysitting him in the first place. That being said, from what I've heard, if anyone hurts your daughter, you'll kick their asses, right?”

Another laugh escaped from Wade, because damn, May was a pro at lifting people's spirits. 

“I like the way you think, May.”

A pause, before he added, “I have to ask though, how the hell are you so chill about this? I mean, you find out your nephew is hanging out with some madman former mercenary and you make it seem like that's a regular Tuesday.”

She sipped from her coffee and made a vague hand gesture as she said, “Eh, it kind of is a regular Tuesday. Plus, you're not really a madman mercenary as much as you're a fiercely protective father who has a bit of a past.”

Then, half under her breath, she continued, “And I've dealt with worse.”

It was Wade's turn to look at May with apt curiosity.

“What, exactly, do you mean by that?”

She scratched the back of her head and looked off to the distance in a rather familiar self-deprecating gesture ( _oh,_ that's _where he gets it from_ ) as she said, “Admittedly, I'm not alllwaayysss the best at judging character. I can be a bit naïve, even now, and, well, I tend to only see the best in people. This maaaaaaaayyyyy have led me toooo....almost marry Otto Octavius.” 

Wade found himself choking on air as he spluttered out a rather intelligent “WHAT?!” in response.

Yeah, there were pretty much no secrets between them after that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...you know for someone who lists Peter Parker as one of the main characters in this fic he's surprisingly absent in quite a few of the chapters
> 
> also sorry if you wanted this fic to be gayer like I swear it will get much more spideypool just not for like...a chapter or two or three
> 
> jesus fuck when I said slow build I meant it whoops
> 
> anyway the new chapter after this is prolly gonna focus on Ellie you've been warned


	10. Schooled

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so like I said this is an Ellie centric chapter and it totally is but guess who snuck into this chapter unplanned? if you guessed Bob you're correct gold star for you
> 
> but yeah I suddenly was like "oh man Bob has it so rough" so now he's here for a bit
> 
> also like I've never actually been to the principal's office so I'm totally bullshitting the procedure whoops

Ellie hated school.

Well.

Sort of. Not really.

See, Ellie actually really liked school itself. Her teacher was super nice and constantly telling bad jokes, which, considering the household she came from, she kind of _had_ to appreciate them. She got pretty good grades, especially with the assistance of Dad and Emily and Peter, even if fractions were still causing her a bit of trouble. She liked to learn about fossils and she was really good at reading analysis. 

What she hated were her peers.

Nope, wait, that's not right either. She tolerated the majority of her classmates, and hated a select few. But hating a select few was enough to make her hate going to school. See, adults were easy. She got along with adults quite well, knowing just the right mixture of mischievous, adorable, and intelligent to get them to coo at her without it being patronizing. Hey, if she didn't end up being a superhero (Even though she totally was going to, please, it's in her blood.), she would be a great criminal mastermind. 

But kids, well, kids were cruel. If you were just different enough, they could turn something inconsequential into an arsenal. There was a squad of four girls and boys in the class that were just blatantly determined to make her life harder. Jeremy in particular had a fondness for being a jackass. She told him as much, which got her a proper scolding from her kind but also kind of oblivious teacher. Jeez, it's not like she told Jeremy to properly fuck off, even if she was thinking it at the time. And it's also not like she took a swing at him...yet. She had to white knuckle her way through more than a few recesses, but she managed to be a good kid. 

Being a good kid kind of sucked. 

So yeah, she didn't hate school. She hated Jeremy and his little squad of bullies. She hated that she didn't have someone to back her up when they taunted her. She hated that her teachers didn't seem to get it, get that the kids' wide-eyed innocence was an act. She hated how much it frustrated her, and how little she felt she could do about it. Recesses were the worst part. During class and lunch, there was always a watchful eye to protect her, but the playground was open territory. She often endured a dodge-ball smacking her in the face (not that it particularly hurt, because, you know, superpowers, but it was still damn annoying) along with mocking terms and jeers. Seriously, you walk off a broken leg one time and suddenly you're a freak. She was angry and she was tired and she just really, really wanted to punch Jeremy in his stupid smug face.

Things got a bit better once she noticed that their school had a new janitor with a familiar, um, not face, but certainly a familiar voice. It actually took her a bit to figure out who the guy was, considering she had never seen him without a mask, but she recognized the man's somewhat high-pitched rendition of “You Give Love A Bad Name”. She had heard that exact same song sung with the exact same voice (though admittedly, it was much louder at the time) on her little karaoke machine she had at home. With a tilt of her head and a squint in her eyes, she asked, “Bob?”

The janitor who, not gonna lie, appeared to be a giant dweeb, looked up from his sweeping, and a large (though slightly wary...Bob pretty much constantly looked slightly wary) smile spread across his features. 

“Hello ma'am...er, I mean, child that I've never seen before and am just now meeting for the very first time.”

Ellie let out a full blown squeal as she delightedly called out, “Bob!” and ran for a jumping tackle. Bob looked terrified for a moment, but through sheer force of will, he managed to both catch her and stay upright, and the smile looked a little more genuine. 

“Well hello yourself!”

Ellie threw up her arms and nearly threw him off balance, but as they both stayed upright she giggled out, “You have a face! And hair! Wow!”

Bob had an expression that was both confused and amused as he laughed and said, “Why wouldn't I have a face?”

Ellie got a bit more serious at that, looking at him all business as she said, “Bob, let me tell ya, I have seen some weird shit in my ten years. Plus, you wear a mask all the time, how was I supposed to know whether or not the top half of your face existed? I didn't even know if you had _eyes_.” 

Bob attempted a shrug, which was a bit difficult with a ten year old girl in your arms, but he managed decently. “Fair enough. And I can't exactly go around wearing the mask at your school, now can I?”

Ellie rolled her eyes as she said, “Well you could if my principal weren't so _lame_. Apparently she thinks “superhero paraphernalia is not conducive to a learning environment” or something stupid like that, even though capes and masks look _super_ rad. Actually, that reminds me, why are you at my school? When did you become a janitor?”

“Well, I became a janitor when your dad threw money at me and shoved me out the door shouting 'Go protect my baby!'.”

“Yeah, Dad can be a _liiittllee_ over-protective. So, you're, like, undercover?”

“Sort of, yes. I'm technically here to be on the look-out and ensure nothing bad happens to you, but I am actually a janitor now as well. And I'll tell you a little secret, I actually prefer being a janitor to a henchmen. A.I.M. had nice benefits and all, but being a henchmen is _terrifying._ You get shot like all the time and it's terrible and you get really paranoid and just don't ever be a terrorist it's awful work. Plus, I'm almost certain that with your dad funding this expedition to elementary school and my base wage I actually get better pay.”

“Huh. That's cool. Though, as much as I think it'll be neato to have you around, you can tell Dad that I don't really need a bodyguard or whatever. Superpowers, remember? Nothin' too bad is gonna happen to me!”

“I'm sorry, ma'am, but there is no universe in which I would ever say such a thing to Mr. Wilson. He's much scarier than any organization ever could be.”

Ellie gave an incredulous look at that statement, replying with, “My dad? Nah. He's secretly just a giant kitten. He doesn't even cheat at Monopoly, Bob, and _everyone_ cheats at Monopoly.”

Bob gave a kind of weird half smile that Ellie was rapidly becoming more used to, because she saw it on like every adults face lately. Is that like a thing that adults do? Once you hit a certain age, do your features just get this new “happy-sad” expression? Because if so, that seemed like a major bummer. Ellie gave herself a little mental note to never grow old, it seemed way lame. Anyway, Bob had that weird face when he said, “I'm glad that you believe that, ma'am.”

She didn't know what the hell he was talking about, because her dad really didn't cheat at monopoly (he would be a terrible capitalist), so she shrugged and said, “So, do you wanna hang out during lunch?”

She silently hoped that Bob would say yes, because if he did, it meant she wasn't alone, and that with an adult authority figure (well, sort of) around, Jeremy's little squad of assholes would lay off. Luckily for her, Bob said, “Well, my break is coming up pretty soon, so, sure,” and she let out a slight sigh of relief that she didn't know that she had been keeping in. She squirmed out of his arms and ran to go catch up with her class, and, for the first time this year, looked forward to the 45 minutes of food and play time they were granted. Maybe having a personal bodyguard/lookout person would be kinda cool after all, because once Bob learned to relax (it only took about 4 babysitting trips for him to calm down enough to start and be comfortable in the Wilson and Camacho house) he was a pretty chill guy. 

The coolest thing about it, however, is that as a janitor, he had the keys to _everything_. Which meant that he could sneak her into the teachers lounge when no one was looking, let her explore the boiler room that she was about 95% certain was haunted, and granted her roof access whenever she pleased. The whole school became hers to explore, and she now had an escape whenever and wherever she needed. 

On the first day with Bob, Janitor Of School, they had decided that roof access would be best for lunch, and they happily looked on the school grounds while munching on their PB&J sandwiches (turns out, Wade had started packing lunches for both of them. At least he did on the days where he didn't just give them $200 dollars and said “Have at it”.). They ate in a comfortable silence for a while, up until a wicked idea entered Ellie's head. An excited intake of breath and gleeful expression later, she told Bob, “Dude! I just had the _best_ idea. You gotta help me out!”

Bob's eyes went a little wide and traumatized, considering that whenever someone in the family “just had the best idea”, it usually ended in either bodily harm and/or mortification for him. With no small amount of effort on his part, he tampered down visions of parrot costumes and credit card abuse, and gave a somewhat shaky smile as he replied, “And what would that be?”

Gesticulating wildly, Ellie yelled out, “We need a ramp! And a wagon! _Bob do you have any idea how far I could make it?_ It'd be awesome, I'd practically be flying!”

She got a laugh at that, which wasn't exactly the response she was hoping for. 

“I'm sorry, ma'am, but I'm afraid I can't assist you with that. You'll break your arm.”

“Pfft, yeah right. I'm not gonna break my arm.”

Bob puffed out his chest a little, straightened his chest, and said with a scholarly tone, “Actually, I happen to know for a fact that you would break your arm. Howie tried the same thing, from a roof half this height, and we had to rush him to the ER for a cast and three stitches. Doesn't sound too fun, does it?”

Mental gears began to turn, Ellie's face rapidly switching from excited to disparaged to finally landing on puzzled.

“Who's Howie?”

Bob stiffened at the question, not quite realizing what he had just revealed. Still, with a forced easiness, he replied, “He's one of my two sons. The other is Terry.”

Ellie's face went delightedly wide-eyed as she asked, “You're a dad?!”

Well, it was sort of complicated, but essentially, “Yep.”

Her smile grew as she began to bounce up and down, a stream of words coming out of her mouth.

“Wow that is so neat oh my gosh how old are your sons are they my age that's so cool can they come over can we be friends do they like karaoke do they like Spider-man they gotta like Spider-man that's non-negotiable we're totally gonna be friends unless they're jerks are they jerks a lot of boys are jerks a lot of _girls_ are jerks but boys seem to be worse but nah they're your sons and you're not jerk so why would they be so when do I get to meet them!?”

As she paused for breath, her excitement fizzled out when she saw the look on Bob's face. He didn't really look all that happy. Just the opposite, in fact. Face crumpling, she let out a disappointed sigh as she said, “I don't get to meet them, do I?”

Bob looked _really_ sad now, which sucked, and it sucked even harder when he said, “I'd like you to ma'am, I really would, but I'm afraid I haven't seen them in a couple of years.”

Ellie's eyebrows scrunched up as she asked a surprisingly soft, “Why not?”

Bob ended up placing the sandwich aside, and pulling his knees up to his chest so that he could rest his head on them before answering, “My ex-wife, Allison, well, she got better lawyers than I. As soon as you've signed up for an agency on Shield's watchlist, no judge listens to you. She got full custody of the kids, and I'm not really allowed to hang out with them anymore.”

Ellie mulled this over in her head for a few moments, before looking back up and asking, “Bob?”

He continued to stare off into the distance as he replied with barely more than an “Mmm?”

No eye contact = bad. 

“I'd miss my Dad pretty bad if he was gone. Why don't you ever go visit them? I mean, you seem pretty good at disguises, and I'm pretty sure my school isn't on “Shield's Watchlist” or whatever, so you probably wouldn't get in trouble or anything.”

Bob sort of kind of almost smiled at that, which was good, but he still didn't look at her, which was still in the bad category. 

“They were so young when I left, they probably barely remember me. Plus, Allison remarried, and the guy is nicer than I give him credit for. I check up on them occasionally, and they're happy. Really, really happy. Howie and Terry already have a dad, they don't need me around.”

Ellie opened her mouth to argue, to make a case and valiantly defend Bob, but something in his expression made her stop. Her mouth snapped back shut, and she let out a defeated “humph” when she realized this was probably one of those adult things that she didn't quite get. Ever since her dad came back, she realized she was running into “adult things she didn't quite understand” a lot more often. Instead she changed tactics, instead of trying to convince Bob to do something, she just said, “Well, you can always come hang out with me! Me an' Dad an' Peter an' Emily an' everyone like having you around. Face it Bob, you're part of the squad. Oh, and stop calling me ma'am and my dad sir. It's weird.”

Bob actually looked at her this time, and the look of surprise faded into a fond smile as he ruffled her hair and said, “Sure thing, kid. Want to see if I can sneak you into the abandoned pool?”

Ellie's lit up at that, because knowing someone with the keys to _everywhere_ was awesome, and she exuberantly said, “Hell yeah! I hear that place is totally haunted!”

“Ellie, you think every place at your school is haunted.”

“Bobby, I have literally met Benjamin Franklin and know a dark magician that once made a deal with a demon and won don't you dare try to tell me ghosts aren't real.”

“Wouldn't dream of it.”

Man, this school year was going to be an _adventure_. 

~~~  
Bob had taken the day off. Which, good for him, but Ellie was selfish, so she was kind of hating it. Without unlimited access to any place she desired (that was still on the school grounds, of course), she was stuck with her old stomping grounds: the playground. Also known as the elementary school war zone. Jeremy and his squad hadn't forgotten about her in the two months that she had not so subtlety been avoiding him. Also, apparently hanging out with the janitor and insisting that you totally saw a ghost, you guys, and it was _pissed_ , was considered social taboo by regular kids. Jeremy had apparently decided that instead of doing the easy thing and moving the fuck on with his life, that he would just reload his arsenal of insults and verbal slings. What a douche.

Seriously though, she was just happily humming to herself on the swings, and for some reason that was the moment when the tauting apparently needed to begin. Two seconds into recess and one of Jeremey's cronies was pointing at her and saying, “Look at the freak girl! The only people who wanna be friends with her are janitors and dead people!”

Honestly, these insults were just so uncreative at this point. “Freak girl”? Yeah, never heard that one before. If she had any sort of foresight (she's ten, cut her some slack) she probably wouldn't have given the crony an exaggerated eye roll and scoff of derision, and yet here she was, living life and making poor decisions. 

The eye roll got her a vicious grin from Jeremy. Too many teeth. Dude totally was gonna grow up to be a super villain, which, whatever, she was gonna be a superhero, and she could totally take him. Even the way he swaggered up to her screamed pretentious future mob boss. 

“Hey, look, it's Eleanor, haven't seen this freak in a while. Finally done playing with the trash, or did he just take the day off?”

Ellie hopped off the swing at that point, because she had nearly an inch on the guy, and dammit, she needed to feel big right now. She could convince herself pretty easily that she had the upper hand. After all, she had superpowers, she was taller, _and_ pretty much all of her family had trained her well in the art of comebacks and not shutting up. 

“I dunno man, the only trash I've met is standing right in front of me.”

The sparse tittering in Jemery's ranks told her that she had done well, and she preened slightly at the confirmation of her verbal skills. This got her an increased sneer from Jeremy, who looked as disgustingly high and mighty as he possibly could, even going for an upwards chin tilt of superiority. 

“You're so pathetic. Everything about you is. Your only friends are custodial staff. No one likes you. The teachers pity you, mostly 'cuz of your stupid dad, who can't even pretend to be normal. You can tell you're related, because you're both freaks. It's pathetic.”

Well, if she was pathetically anything, right now she was pathetically bored.

“Come on, you've had a month and a half to think of things, and you've come up with 'your dad is lame'. Where's all this new material I was promised?”

The sarcasm was just a great way to antagonize the enemy, but Ellie had learned from the best when it came to doing just that. Unfortunately, this meant that Jeremy had decided to get all up in her personal space, which was seriously _not okay_ , as he said, “All of your family is stupid and worthless. Who wants a freak for a dad anyway? Your family ruins _everything_.” 

She smirked and gave an exaggerated yawn.

A light went on in Jeremy's eyes. Ooh dear.

“It's a good thing your mom was never a part of it.”

She didn't have a retort to that. She didn't have a defense prepared. Everything else was pretty standard for Jeremy ever since her dad had first visited her in class (he had given the office the generic excuse of “family matters” and then taken her to a carnival because she had been feeling kinda down that week. Her dad was the best.), but this was a new level. Her vision went red as the sudden seething anger that she was too young and too inexperienced to deflect flooded her system. There was a five second lapse in her awareness, after which her knuckles stung, Jeremy was sporting the beginnings of a black eye and a rather stunned expression, and kids were yelling around her. She was screaming her throat raw as tears were running down her face and arms around her waist were pulling her back far enough to prevent her still wildly thrashing arms and legs from connecting to anything (or anyone).

“Eleanor! Calm down!”

The arms around her were yelling at her in her teacher's voice, but she was still thrashing wildly in an attempt to escape.

“Ellie, breathe! Please, calm down.”

Her teacher's voice was reassuring, and she sucked in a deep breath she hadn't realized she desperately needed. God, she was suddenly exhausted, and standing at this point was too much of an effort, so she allowed herself to slump in her teacher's arms and let them carry her to the principal's office. A surprisingly common destination for her whenever she had to face Jeremy, but this was one of the first times she hadn't held back. Oh man, she was gonna be in so much trouble, which just made the tears come faster.

Her teacher looked at her with an expression that was a gross mixture of sympathy (wow, she was quickly discovering she _hated_ that look) and pity as he set her down and put hands on her shoulders to help ground her as his next words come out soft spoken.

“Ellie, hey, it's okay. We're gonna call your dad to talk about something. We're only calling him so we can try and understand what's wrong, all right?”

Ellie swallowed some of her panic, maybe they wouldn't yell at her, and she was able to breathe semi-normally again as she nodded shyly with a spoken, “Mmhm.”

Her teacher seemed satisfied with this, standing up right and giving her a fake punch on the shoulder and an encouraging, “You'll be just fine.”

She got a little more confident, sniffling as she gave a wobbly smile. The smile disappeared as soon as she was placed in the principal's office, staring down said principal as the woman called Ellie's home. This wouldn't have been that bad of a situation if she hadn't sat in this position several times throughout the year. None of which had warranted a call home, but she was pretty sure that even though Ms. Walters had started out very friendly and understanding, she was more than tired of Ellie's shenanigans (said shenanigans often involving Ellie swearing at people loudly and unabashedly. Gee, I wonder where _that_ particular bad habit could have come from). Normally, Ellie would have a tendency to dig herself into a deeper hole by being sarcastic and dodging questions, but right now she didn't have a whole lot of snark in her system. Instead, she found herself clinging to the chair, swinging her legs, and managing to avoid eye contact for the entire ten minutes it took between the end of the phone call and the arrival of her dad.

She cheered up quite a bit when she heard her dad, turning around with bright eyes and a hopeful expression that quickly turned to dread when she saw that her dad had brought Emily and Peter with him. Reinforcements were never a good sign. She knew she could easily charm her dad into getting out of trouble (honestly he got into as much trouble as her. Sometimes he was more of a big brother than a dad), but the other two were a bit more difficult. Luckily, for now at least, only her dad was being allowed in. All it took was one glance at her tear stained face and the concern came out.

“Hey, kiddo, you all right?”

Actually, she was pretty far from all right, thrumming with the anxiety that comes from being a kid who may or may not be yelled at as well as still pretty shaken not only from Jeremy's words but from her unexpected reaction to it. (At least her knuckles were no longer sore from the not so expert punch. Thanks, superpowers.) She didn't really know how to articulate all that, so instead she gave a shrug and said, “Eh. You should see the other guy.”

Her dad smirked at that, looking a little more excited as he asked, “Was it that little shit Jeremy again?”

Ellie gave a knowing nod.

“You get him good?”

Ellie beamed with pride, giving an enthusiastic, “Hell yeah!”

Her dad seemed pretty damn supportive of that, as he let out an appreciative, “Nice,” and fistbumped her. This, of course, got him a sharp “Mr. _Wilson_!” from the principal. He looked as scolded as Ellie currently felt.

Quickly, he got to his seat and braced for impact. 

Ms. Walters bristled, voice harsh as she said, “Mr. Wilson. I _assure_ you that this is an entirely serious matter. Your daughter got into an altercation with another student that resulted in physical violence.”

Her dad put on an blatantly fake (well, fake in more ways than one, considering he was using the image inducer) stern face and said, “Oh yeah, that's..just, you know, terrible.”

Ms. Walters was unamused, but the harshness dissipated rather quickly with the release of a sigh. She took off her glasses and cleaned them off with a small cloth, before putting them back on and folding her hands together on her desk in order to look a bit more composed.

“Mr. Wilson, the reason that we called you in today is that we're concerned. While it's true that Eleanor has had...outbursts in the past, they were previously limited to sarcastic comments and occasional profanity. Only today has it become physical, and it seemed much more severe than Eleanor's normal behavior. We're wondering if anything in her home life would explain the sudden change.”

Her dad kind of blinked at that with an intelligent, “uhhhh,” before turning and actually talking to her rather than about her by saying, “Dunno. Ellie, anything been happening in your home life that I should be concerned about?”

She pondered for a second, because honestly there _had_ been quite a few changes to her life in the past couple of months, but none of them seemed like bad changes, per se (except the occasional kidnapping, but really, nothing she couldn't handle), so she shrugged and went with, “Well, I mean, we couldn't find the DVD for _The Princess and the Frog_ and we don't have any silly string to enact our revenge on Pete for the great Web War of Tuesday Morning ,but other than that, things have been pretty cool. Oh! I started hanging out with Bob more.”

He gave a “fatherly head shake” as he said, “That Bob, man. He's a bad influence on you, probably been training you for a secret underground ten year old fight club. No, wait, you're gonna be America's  
Next Top Hydra agent!”

They both broke into giggles at that, because even though Bob actually had been a former terrorist, pretty much everyone was fully aware of the fact that Bob couldn't hurt a fly even if he wanted to.

Ms. Walters expression went flat along with her tone as she said, “Are you two aware that Eleanor nearly broke Jeremy's nose? This kind of action is not to be taken lightly, and it is likely that your daughter will end up with a suspension. While her grades are very good, the time away from school could still have a rather negative impact on her education.”

Her dad opened up his mouth as if he was about to say something (he was, and it was going to be “Oh no, being forced to not go to school, I'm sure every kid hates that” accompanied with an eye roll), before looking like he was listening to someone, shaking his head, and instead saying, “Look, Teach, I'm sorry, but I was a bit of a troublemaker myself when I was her age, so if we're gonna have super serious discussion with super 'serious' consequences, I'm gonna have to call in the calvary.”

The principal quirked her eyebrow up at that, and her confusion wasn't exactly alleviated when her dad turned around in his chair, cupped his face with his hands, and called out, “YO PRES AND PETEY! THIS IS FORMER MERC' WITH A MOUTH' CALLIN' IN AND REQUESTIN' BACK UP.”

Oh shit. Now Ellie really _was_ in trouble.

The aforementioned “Pres and Petey” looked up from their polite conversation, Emily rolling her eyes and sighing while Peter face-palmed, but, nonetheless, both of them entered with serious and concerned expressions.

The principal had the look of a woman who was praying for retirement as she said, “Mr. _Wilson_ , only immediate family is allowed to partake in this particular discussion.”

He snorted at that, because, “Look, Walters, they are immediate family. I'm actually fairly certain that both of them are listed under 'in case of emergency' in Ellie's files, and if that isn't a bond to last the ages, well then, I don't know what is.”

Emily gave him a pointed look (which was better than the daggers Ms. Walters was currently aiming at him) as she said, “Wade, hon, perhaps you should step out for a bit, let the relay team take this one.”

“Like Hell! I am her father and upstanding member of the PTA, and I plan on being involved. My baby's first call home, I'm so proud.”

Emily opened up her mouth to argue, then let out a huff because she knew what arguing with Wade was both pointless and exhausting. This is when Peter cut in to ask, “Ms, uh, Walters, what exactly is Ellie in trouble for?”

As the prinicipal's patience was wearing rather thin, she rather bluntly stated, “Eleanor punched another student. Nearly broke his nose.”

Peter seemed taken aback by this news, but Emily nodded along with a slightly blasé expression. 

The principal continued on for the slightly more, ah, receptive audience, saying, “Luckily for Eleanor, we operate on a two strike system, and since this is her first _physical_ offense, and the parents of the other student are not pushing for more severe punishment, suspension isn't a necessity. In fact, I'd prefer not to have to implement it. While Eleanor can be...crass, I firmly believe in her ability to be an amazing student if given the opportunity, so if she gives a promise that there will be no further offenses of this nature, we should be able to wrap everything up in this office.”

After hearing that, Ellie emphatically declared, “It'll never happen again, I promise!” and even resisted the temptation to add “even if the little jerk deserved it”. And yet, a nagging voice in the back of her head told her that she wasn't really sure that she _could_ keep that promise. She really hadn't planned on hitting Jeremy, she swears! It just kind of...happened. Like she lost control. It was not a good feeling. Not that her principal needed to that, so she pulled out the full blown adult manipulating puppy dog eyes.

Ms. Walters actually talked to _her_ for once as she said, “Very well. Eleanor, for now, you and your family are free to go,” which she was relatively certain was just principal speak for “get the hell out of my office”, and Ellie and the rest of the squad did just that. Ellie was back to feeling pretty good about life, looking forward to getting off pretty lightly as well as the dinosaur shaped chicken nuggets her dad had promised for an after school snack. Things were lookin' up.

Or at least, they were, until she was cornered by Emily and Peter as soon as they were off school grounds. Peter spoke first, throwing his hands up dramatically as he said, “Ellie! What was that about?! You can't just punch people to solve your problems!” 

The three of them gave Peter an incredulous look.

“What? Did I miss something?” 

__Her dad chimed in, wrapping an arm around Peter's shoulders and saying, “Petey, babe, you spend practically every night _punching people to solve your problems._ ”_ _

Peter defiantly crossed his arms and said, “That is _completely_ different. And technically, I punch people to solve _other people's_ problems. I use science and intellect to solve my problems.” 

“Like that problem where your anger and guilt and self doubt make you wanna punch people?” 

“Woah, _hey now_ , that was unwarranted. And I punch people for the greater good, thank you very much.” 

Emily decided to step in before things escalated (even though they weren't likely to escalate, considering that Ellie could pretty much sense that her dad was about three seconds from making an _Incredibles_ reference) by sharply saying, “Children! Shush, and let me talk to Ellie for a bit, all right?”

The two grown-ass men gave reluctant nods, and Preston knelt down in order to speak to Ellie face-to-face. With a soft expression and a gentle hand on her shoulder, she said, “Ellie, what's up? I mean, I'm aware that you have a penchant for weapons and can handle a bit of gore and enjoy a good Nerf war with the rest of us, but I have yet to see you be truly violent. I don't think I've even seen you be that angry. _Jeff_ throws more temper tantrums than you. Hon, will you tell me what's wrong?”

Ellie averted her eyes, looking at the sneakers she was scuffing across the sidewalk, and gave a small shrug. “Nothin's wrong. 's fine.”

Emile responded with this worry smile thing and used her hand to guide Ellie's chin so that Ellie would be looking at her, affectionately saying, “Something tells me that isn't exactly true. But you have to tell me what's wrong if you want me to help make it better, okay?”

Ellie gave a little nod, and then hugged herself and valiantly tried (and failed) to not let tears fall as she replied, “He just..he just crossed a line, okay?”

Emily pushed a strand of hair from her face and wiped away a few of her tears, half whispering, “And what line was that, sweetheart?”

Ellie's hands clenched into fists and she knew she was full on crying now, but once the words started she couldn't stop them, telling Emily in between gasping breaths, “He just..he just.. he said mean things about my mom...and I just..I just got so _angry_..an' I didn't kn-know h-how to stop, and he-he said that..that it was good my mom wasn't around...an' an' an' I love you an' Daddy an' Peter but I.. I m-miss my m-mom.”

She didn't have it in her to say anything more, and when Emily pulled her into a hug, she didn't have the energy to resist. Emily wrapped one arm around her back and used one arm to stroke her hair, telling her, “I know, honey, I know,” which triggered Ellie's collapse onto her chest, vicious, painful sobs shaking her entire frame. Somewhere, in the back of Ellie's head, she was thinking about how her dumb stupid tears and her dumb stupid snot were gonna get all over Emily's shirt. She was also thinking that this breakdown was the _exact reason_ she didn't want to talk about. But she was mostly thinking about how she really wanted her mom, and how she really _needed_ this hug. 

In her peripherals, she picked up her dad's and Peter's reactions. Peter seemed slightly shocked, but mostly sympathetic. Her dad looked a lot worse, visibly stricken by her words. He looked like he needed a hug as well, and she made a mental note to give him one as soon as she could properly _breathe_ again. Until then, she nuzzled herself against Emily and waited for the heaving gasps to settle down into softer trembles and whimpers. 

About five minutes later, she pulled away from Emily, and felt more than a little drained, to be honest. It had been an emotional day. Emily assessed her and asked, “You feelin' better, sweetie?”

Emily gave sort of bleary eyed nod, but Emily seemed to accept it and let her go. The second she turned around to face her dad, he thoughtfully asked, “Hey kiddo, you got school tomorrow?”

She looked up at him with a fragile, delicate smile and said, “Course not, Dad. Tomorrow's Saturday.”

“Awesome. Well then, I have a plan. Actually, two plans. The first is that I hoist you up on my shoulders so that you can feel taller than everyone else, and then we go home and make some super rad brownies that will be the talk of the town and make that soggy towel Helen _super_ jealous. How's that sound? ”

Her smile got a bit stronger, felt a bit more real as she replied, “Sounds pretty good. What's the second plan?”

In response, her dad picked her up and hoisted her onto his shoulders in one swift motion that she couldn't help giggling at, and replied, “That, my dear, is a surprise. Guess you'll just have to wait until tomorrow and see. Oh, but maayyybbeee I can spoil the part that involves the giant sharks with laser beams attached to their foreheads.”

And now the smile was reinforced with a squeal of “Daaaaaaaddd!”

“Nope, sorry kiddo, but I've already revealed too much! You're just gonna have to wait until tomorrow. Now, let's go bake us some brownies!”

As her dad ran off into the distance with her atop his shoulders, she couldn't help but feel better. She was still missing her mom pretty bad, and she was still rather displeased with Jeremy, but she had homemade brownies to look forward to, and for now, that was pretty darn okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you know it's funny because Bob was actually a janitor in his pre-hydra days so like look who's come full circle 
> 
> also this fic is officially novel length and over a hundred pages long (wooooo) and I can't tell whether to feel accomplished or ashamed but I'm goin' with accomplished for now
> 
> ALSO warning: the next chapter is hella short and decently agnsty and I hadn't actually planned for it but I got sad at like one am and then I felt like sharing that sadness with all of you congrats


	11. The Visit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> from the producers that brought you heartfelt conversations and comics references now comes: _more_ heartfelt conversations and comics references

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> whoops I meant for this to be up last week and to be around 2,000 words but as it turns out nope it's up this week and it's almost the standard length of 5,000 words so when i said it was gonna be a shorter chapter i lied wheeeeeeeeee
> 
> to any of you that were hoping for a happier follow up chapter i'm sorry to have failed you hope you like the chapter anyway

It was a bit of a tradition for Wade and Ellie. Wade's idea, actually. It would be a tradition that would last for decades, albeit a progressively more infrequent one as Ellie grew older and busier. 

Some years, it happened once a month, at the least. More than that if things were rough and/or they got a type of flower that deteriorated rapidly. Some years, it was only an annual occurrence. But every year, without fail, it did happen. 

It started off with a trip to the florist's, because none of that grocery store shit was going to cut it. Wade let Ellie reign free, allowing her to pick out as many big and colorful eyesore bouquets as her heart desired. As she got older and became more of an adult, the flowers became a bit more subdued, but no matter what, there were white camellias somewhere in the mix. They quickly became one of Ellie's favorite type of flowers, yet they were only ever used for this tradition. 

Next stop was the card shop, usually upon Wade's instance. It was kind of difficult to find humorous cards for this specific occasion, though if they conducted their little ceremony on a holiday, they would occasionally pick out something with a terrible pun or goofy graphics. However, more often than not, they would go with something sweet and heartfelt, unsurprisingly accompanied by floral prints or tranquil scenes. Sometimes there was even a rainbow thrown on for good measure. 

There was one particular holiday that they always had cards for and that they always planned out a visit for. One time, when Ellie was in her mid-twenties, she had had a big blow out fight with Wade that had resulted in them not talking to each other for several months. And yet, on the second Sunday of May, they were both there with flowers and cards in hand. It was on that day that they finally made amends, and that they knew that this little tradition would always be able to bring them together. 

The last stop was always to the local cemetery, seven rows back and four rows down, to a rather simple, borderline diminutive headstone that read 

_

Carmelita Camacho   
Beloved by Many, Forgotten by None.

_

Once they were actually there, well, some of it was constant. They would always arrange the flowers around the headstone, and sometimes, if there was a nearby grave that had gone long untouched, Ellie would pick a flower from her mother's bouquets and lay it down on that one, because “no one deserves to be forgotten”. One year, they came frequently enough that the flowers were constantly fresh and vibrant, not even having two weeks to wilt. It had been a bit of a rough year for the both of them.

The next step was always to read out the cards that they had brought. Ellie was usually the speaker of honor, and even went so far as to accurately describe whatever pictures were printed on the high quality card stock, usually with comments like “oh man, mom, there are _so many sparkles_ , this place is gonna be glittery for months” or “the painter went a little overboard with the floral print, and the message is a little tacky, but maybe we can pretend we're respectable. Abuela approves of it. She's kinda boring like that, but I like her anyway.”

After that, it really depended on the day, and the general mood of Ellie. On beautiful, summery days, they may have even gone the extra mile and packed a picnic, spreading a blanket out of the lush grass and chatting happily. These were the best days for visiting, Ellie usually talking a mile a minute, telling her mom every and any anecdote that came to mind while taking some of the flowers to weave into crowns for all three of them. They could spend hours there, because there was food to eat and sun to shine and always just so _much_ Ellie had to say. 

Weirdly enough, even on days like these, Peter and May rarely accompanied them. Maybe it wasn't that weird, because Wade and Ellie only went to Ben's grave once in their lives. Carmelita Camacho and Ben Parker were two individuals that more people should have had a chance to know. 

And of course, Wade _never_ talked about Vanessa...

Other days were much less of a picnic. The rain had a tendency to muck things up both literally and figuratively. At the very least, Ellie's stories were shorter as her and Wade huddled under an umbrella, trying (and failing) not to be completely soaked in the process. Some days they barely talked at all, Wade and Ellie coming to the grave, laying down flowers, and only managing to say “I'm sorry,” and “I miss you,” respectively. 

The first time that they engaged in this little tradition of theirs, it was a lot more like those quiet, sombre moments. The first time they engaged in this little tradition was the Saturday after Ellie had gotten into a bit of a disagreement with that Little Shit Jeremy. The whole thing started with Wade throwing open her door at too fuckin' early o'clock and sing-songing “GOOD MORNING STARSHINE! The EARTH SAYS HELLO!”

Ellie responded with an “mmph” before shoving her face further into the pillow. However, her dad was feeling particularly obnoxious this morning, so instead of going away, he flopped onto her bed and began to bounce up and down while doing a very poor rendition of “Good Morning” from _Singin' in the Rain._ With fire and hatred in her soul, Ellie managed to peel open one eye that radiated more evil than the one that belonged to Sauron itself. Her father irritatingly chuckled and mussed with her hair, affectionately saying, “Hey, it's not my fault that you decided to binge watch _Gravity Falls_ with Pete and then stayed up till 3 am discussing conspiracy theories.” 

Ellie tried to launch into an angry tirade about how it was Wade that _recommended the show in the first place_ , and yes, while it was amazing, he had no right to be criticizing her TV consumption habits, but instead a scratchy and sleep heavy huff of “Time?” came out.

“8 am and time to get moving.”

At that, Ellie mustered up the energy to pull herself up into a sitting position, if only so she could stare him down with the full brunt of a “I know I'm only ten, and that you're my dad, and basically immortal, and that we love each other, but if you don't get out of my room in about 2.0 seconds I _will_ murder you,” glare. Iciness dripping in her words, she stated bluntly, “Dad, unless you're taking me to Disneyland at this _precise_ moment, which I know you're not, because it's like a bajillion miles away, then I think you should leave my room and not dare to enter again until giving me _at least_ another hour of sleep.”

Her dad snorted at that as he said, “Like a bajillion miles ever stopped me. In fact, oh ye of little faith, I'm almost 87 percent sure that I still have the teleporter belt somewhere round here. Bodyslide by two and we can get into Disneyland for _free_.”

She perked up at that, the “death and destruction” attitude fleeing her at once because _holy shit were they actually going to Disneyland?_ Still, she managed to remain skeptical, and raised an eyebrow to proudly display that skepticism. 

“But no, we're not going to Disneyland, at least not today. Gotta actually find the teleporter belt first. And make sure that Nathan wouldn't suddenly appear beside us, because as much as I love Cable and miss that beautiful techno-organic infection glow he always possessed, he was never particularly fond of mouse ears and happiness. Plus there's no freaking way I'm letting him anywhere near you.”

The return of the murderous stink eye and the flat declaration of “Dad,” actually got Wade to shut up. He looked at his daughter and just asked, “Stop talking?”

With her curt nod, he replied, “You know, I don't think I've ever actually honored someone's request for me to shut up before, but since you're my daughter and I love you and all that crap, I suppose I can honor it, just this once, especially because if I don't, you'll be a grumpybutt all day. I'll leave you alone for the next few hours, and you try and get some sleep, deal?”

Ellie didn't say anything as she slid back down under the covers and stubbornly closed her eyes, and no lawyer could definitively, beyond reasonable doubt prove that she had smiled just ever so slightly when her dad got up and gently kissed her forehead before turning off the lights (not that it did all that much considering that it was daytime and her room had these huge, arched windows that let in quite a bit of light even with the curtains closed) and closing her door, but she totally did.

At around 10 am, she was still fairly groggy and tired (not unlike a certain fanfic writer, who had a tendency to stay up until 4 am and not get up until like noon during the summer months), but she had woken up on her own accord. Not bothering to change her clothes or put on socks, she padded her way downstairs and was suddenly hit with the wonderful, delicious smell of...holy crap, no way, chocolate chip pancakes! 

She ran up excitedly to the kitchen, where her dad was wearing a ridiculous chef's hat and an apron that said “Please give your compliments to the chef through lots of hugs” and, yep, he was making his extraordinary, amazing, totally perfect buttermilk chocolate chip pancakes that were usually reserved for very special occasions, and were her _all-time_ favorite breakfast food ever. 

The balls of her feet began to bounce, a barely contained “Eeeee!!!” in her throat as all thoughts of tiredness vanished. Her excitement only grew as her dad caught her eye and asked, “Hey, princess, you ready for breakfast?”

“Hell yeah I'm ready!”

Wade happily indulged her, allowing her to devour way too much of the delicious meal of champions. Once she was properly stuffed (which meant she was groaning over her stomach and a powdered sugar/ chocolate syrup mix was pretty much covering her face), Wade pointed upstairs and told her to get cleaned up and put on some nicer clothes so that they could get going to this weird mystery location. She had rolled her eyes and sarcastically replied, “Yeah, okay, _Dad_.”

This got her a rather disappointed fold of his arms as well as the constructive criticism of, “Ellie, sweetie, hon, darlin', I'm sorry, but no. I'm _actually_ your father, so the sarcasm here doesn't make any sense. You know this, I taught you better than this.”

She took this into consideration, and after a moment of thought, she replied, “Sorry, dad, I can't change. I mean, I _have_ to go out like this. Dinosaur pajama pants with a fine coating of powdered sugar and generic brown stains are all the rage in the fashion industry right now. Seriously. It's in Vogue. Look it up.”

With that, her dad held up a fist for her to bump, which she promptly did, as he proudly declared, “That's my girl!”

He continued with, “But seriously, bro, go get ready we got stuff to _do_.”

She gave him a mock salute and said, “On it, cap'n,” as she headed back to her room.

Twenty minutes later, she was strapped into the backseat of the minivan (yes, a minivan. I mean, yeah, they also had a flying corvette kept in the “secret” garage, but seriously, a _minivan_?) with no clue where exactly they were headed or what exactly they were doing, so she asked just as much.

“Well first, we're going to the flower shop.”

“Why?”

“To find the best, biggest, and brightest bouquet of flowers that legal tender..well, semi-legal tender can buy.”

And really, while it didn't exactly answer her question, she could hardly argue with that logic. And ho boy, best and brightest they did indeed buy. Well, it wasn't really one bouquet as much as several smaller bouquets mushed together, but it had hydrangeas and hibiscus and baby's breath and camellias and lilies and birds of paradise and even some sprigs of lavender thrown in for fragrance and it was _awesome_ , even if Ellie didn't yet know what it was for.

The next stop was a Hallmark of all things, which she didn't actually go in to, considering she had no idea what the occasion was, but her dad came back with a disconcertingly large bag of cards, so apparently the something they were doing was an important something. Instinct (or as much instinct as you could have when you're ten years old) told her that it would be better just not to question it, so she decided to ride it out and see what happened.

The next destination on their list took them a good 45 minutes to actually drive to, because they were able to ear-damagingly blast and sing along with the entire _Back in Black_ album. At first, Ellie had been completely encompassed in jamming out, and really wasn't paying attention to where they were headed. However, as the last notes of “Rock and Roll Ain't Noise Pollution” faded out, she realized that some part of her _knew_ the location, even though she couldn't quite place it just yet. Her hands began to tremble, and her stomach had apparently been replaced with lead. 

The music had ended, the car had come to a stop, and her dad was being quiet. She looked up at the entrance center as a shuddering breath escaped, her worst suspicions being confirmed. 

Disneyland is supposedly “the happiest place on Earth”. Her dad did not take her to Disneyland. Pretty much the opposite, in fact.

Her dad opened his mouth as if he was about to speak, as if he was about to start a meaningful conversation that she wouldn't fully understand but she would be grateful for anyway, which, just...no. So before he had a chance to say a word, she unbuckled herself, flung open the door, and made a break for it. She didn't know what she was feeling, but she needed her legs to carry her, to use the pounding rhythm of her feet to alleviate some of the weight on her chest. Thankfully, her dad let her run, let her have a few minutes to..to... she didn't know what, but she was still so grateful for that time.

At seven rows down, four rows back, she crumpled down on the hard, grassy soil, pulling her knees up and hiding her face as she wrapped her arms around them. She hasn't been here in years, not since..not since the funeral. Her mom was constantly on her mind, but at least it was constantly at the back of her mind, at least until yesterday. 

And now, just, wow, so much has changed. She had gotten so caught in the whirlwind that she hadn't really reflected on anything until right now. Her world had gotten so much bigger lately. Too big, almost. There was zombies and ghosts and government agencies and evil scientists and super powers and she had been so distracted by the coolness and excitement of it all that she had forgotten that she was _terrified_. Her mom was gone. What if her dad left too? Or Emily? Or Pete or May or Bob? She was ten for Christ's sake, she shouldn't have to worry about all this kind of stuff. 

After about five minutes of deliberation, her torrent of thoughts and worries and feelings calmed down to a manageable level, even for a ten year old, and she looked back up at her mom's headstone. It wasn't actually until she raised her head that she realized she had been crying, and once she felt all the puffiness, she just felt drained more than anything. 

She gave a weary stare at the kind words carved into marble, and couldn't quite bring herself to stop hugging her knees. She sighed and slumped, head coming back down, but she wasn't hiding her face anymore, so she considered it a small victory. Feeling only slightly ridiculous, in a huff of breath, the words, “Hi, mom,” ghosted across her lips. 

And weirdly enough, she felt better. 

She brought her head back up and loosened her death grip on her knees, and she said in a voice that actually was more than a whisper, “I miss you. A lot.”

Those words helped ease the tightness in her chest and lighten the weight in her stomach, so she figured she should give a shot at saying some more of them.

“Um, a lot happened since you left.”

Her breathing steadied, the tears didn't sting nearly as much, and the more she spoke, the better she felt.

“School's pretty good. I have some people now that can help me with fractions. I got in trouble yesterday, but I think everything's okay again, as long as Dad isn't mad at me for running out of the car.”

“Oh, hey, yeah! My dad came back. He's pretty cool. He's a superhero! Or, um, was one, I'm not sure, 'cause he doesn't really go out in costume anymore. Actually, I hang out with a lot of superheros now. Pete's one, but no one's supposed to say anything about it, 'cause it's a secret, but I don't think you'll tell. Emily isn't technically a superhero but she's a S.H.E.I.L.D agent and has a neato robot body and can make really good snickerdoodles so that basically counts. And guess what? I'm gonna be a superhero someday, 'cause I got super powers. Or maybe a supervillian, I dunno, I don't have my plans finalized yet. Leanin' more towards superhero though, 'cause I got a lot of good people to help me be a good person. I think you'd like them.”

Footsteps approached her as she spoke, and she whipped her head around to see her dad approaching, and, woah, he wasn't even wearing his image inducer or his mask. That never happened in public, she was a little shocked. She thought it was a good thing though. Well, maybe. Hopefully. 

He came over with the bag of cards in one hand and the rather over-sized bundle of flowers in the other, stopping about ten feet away to silently ask permission to come any further. She shot him a shaky smile as confirmation to come over, then mustered up the energy to stand up and brush herself off as her dad approached. He successfully shuffled the bag of cards to the fingers that were clutching flowers, and held out his now free arm in an invitation that she gratefully accepted. Once her head was nuzzled at his side and he was pulling her into a side hug, he carefully asked, “Is this alright? I mean, this might have been kind of a shitty move on my part, and it sure as hell ain't Disneyland, though we can probably head to Coney Island after this, if you'd like. But you were talkin' about missing your mom pretty bad, and if could do _anything_ to bring her back you know I would, even talked to Micheal about it, but as you know, him and raising the dead don't exactly mix all that well, but I thought that maybe coming to visit her might be the next, um, not best thing, per se, but next, uh, thing. Or have I made a grievous miscalculation?”

Ellie looked up at her dad and shot him a, woah, happy-sad smile, she now understood why adults had that. Huh. She wasn't particularly fond of it, but it was the best she could manage. 

“No, this is okay. No one's let me really see her since the funeral, it was nice to talk to her again.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Cool.”

There was a sudden lull in the conversation, which made Ellie feel itchy all over, but thankfully her dad quickly ended it when he flinched and said, “Oh shit. I should probably actually put the flowers on the gravestone, shouldn't I?”

“Wait, Dad, can I do it?”

“Sure thing, sweet pea.”

He handed over the way too many flowers and Ellie began to arrange them how she saw fit, even sticking her tongue out in concentration. It took up a good five minutes, and it was quite the relief for Ellie to have something to engage herself in. After she took a step back, she considered the arrangement for a minute, before giving a satisfied nod. It was at that moment that she remembered the bag of cards, and now that she felt a little better and was a little less distracted, she couldn't help but point and ask, “So, wait, what are those for?”

Her dad looked back down at the bag and brushed her off with a, “Oh, these? Nothin', don't worry about it.”

Yeah, because that was really going to work. She glared at him with all of her might, and while he gave her an unimpressed look, she swiped the bag from his hands and investigated before he could grab them back. When she looked at the cards she saw that they were...apologies? Every one in the pile had some variation of the words “I'm sorry” in beautiful fonts and with solemn pictures. One even said “Wow, I messed up” with a forlorn looking cartoon dog. Her face scrunched up in befuddlement, because unless these were apologizing for not yet taking her to Magic Kingdom, she really had no clue as to why her dad bought these cards. She gave the bag back to her dad and held out her arms with upturned palms in a “What the hell, man?” gesture and hoped for an explanation.

An explanation she did not get, instead a simple, faux-innocent, “What?”

Planting her feet firmly in the ground and her fists on her hips, she tried to demand, “Why do you have a bag full of apology cards?”

“Why are you all up in my business, _Eleanor_?”

“Hey! Only the ten year old girl is allowed to be the child here!”

Her dad gave the very mature response of sneering and making mocking noises that mimicked her speech. Who even allowed him to be a father? 

In a tone she learned from Emily (usually by being on the receiving end of it), she pointedly said, “ _Dad._ ”

He sobered up at that, and she wondered if she made a mistake as he sighed an ran a hand over his face.

“They're for your mom, okay?”

No, not okay. That clarified nothing. 

“Because......?”

In a quiet voice, which, shit, his quiet voice was almost as scary as his silence, he replied, “Because your mom would still be around if it weren't for me.”

Her eyebrows scrunched up even further, and she honestly replied, “No, the bad guys got her. Bad guys are bad guys, and you didn't know that they got her, so you couldn't stop them. I already know that.”

“But the bad guys wouldn't have got her in the first place if I hadn't been around.”

“That makes little to no sense.”

Her dad gave a head shake and another sigh, as if to indirectly say “You're just a kid, you wouldn't understand”, and she immediately felt betrayed, because her dad had _never_ given her that look before. She was about to call him out it, except that he knelt down so that they were face level and placed a hand on her shoulder with an expression that was just so damn _sad_ and guilty and upset that she immediately forgave him for the minor indiscretion. 

“Ellie, those bad guys came for _me_ , not your mom. They took me, and then they said if I didn't comply, they'd hurt my family.”

“At the time, I scoffed, because, what the hell, I didn't _have_ a family, so what leverage could they possibly have? And then that's when they told me about you and your mom, and it came crashing down. By the time I escaped, by the time I found her...it was already too late. And I was so fucking scared that they had taken you too, but thank god you weren't in that pile of....that place. I was able to find you, but I should've done better by your mom. I should've hidden her or tried harder and I really shouldn't have essentially laughed in Butler's face. In summary, if she hadn't had a connection to me, if I had known better, she'd still be around, and these apology cards will _never_ make up for what I did. So yeah, in summary, that's why your grandmother hates me so much.”

Oh. Huh. She didn't really know how to process that information, or how to feel about it, so she went with, “Yeah. Abuela really does hate you, doesn't she?”

At this point, her dad had stood back up, and with his hands in his pockets, he shrugged and said, “Eh, it's not exactly unfounded. Man, between her and Blind Al, I do not have a good rap amongst the elderly female crowd.”

“Who's Blind Al?”

“She's just like May, except terrible. Then again, when the foundation of a relationship is based on kidnapping, who can really blame her?”

“I'm guessing I'm not gonna meet her?”

“Yeah, not happening.”

And then, because she had actually had made as much progress on thinking about the new information pertaining to her mom as she was gonna make that day, she said, “You know what, Dad?”

“What?”

She could have said quite a few things here. She could have said that she was glad he was involved, because otherwise she wouldn't be around. She could have said that she was really, really glad to have a dad, even though she missed her mom. She could have said a lot of things, but she went with, “I still think the bad guys should be the ones to bring apology cards. And they should have to pay for the flowers too.”

Her dad gave a half-hearted “Mmm,” and when she looked up, he appeared rather forlorn, and, oh jeez, there were tear stains. Her dad had been crying and she hadn't even noticed and now she was going to cry _again_ and because she was desperately trying to stiff-upper-lip it, she half-heartedly joked, “Besides, this is just a part of my superhero origin story, right? I'm pretty sure it's like, illegal or something to be a superhero and have both of your parents alive.”

Her dad smiled at her, but his eyes were all watery, and now hers were too, and in a surprisingly small and rather unexpected voice, she said, “But you're not allowed to go anywhere, okay?”

Now that the tears were officially falling (not a severely as before, not those harsh gasping things that made everything inside her _hurt_ ), her dad swiftly picked her up and pulled her into a tight hug. As she wrapped her arms around his neck and let herself cry onto his shoulder, he softly, but certainly, told her, “Never.”

She turned her head ever so slightly so that she could look her dad and make sure he wasn't gonna lie. With one eye open and her cheek still smushed against his now wet shoulder, she asked, “Promise?”

Her dad gave her a smile that actually seemed real and sort of happy, and without a hint of doubt, he replied, “ _Pinky_ promise. That's legally binding, you know,” and held up his finger. She kind of snorted at that, but looked satisfied as she wrapped her own pinky around his.

In the back of his mind, one of the boxes told him not to make promises he couldn't keep. With a mental smirk, Wade told them that he never did, and he certainly hadn't started now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i swear to god next chapter should be less angsty and more fluffy and MORE domestic trash   
> and Peter's actually in it for once
> 
> still not gay but getting REAL close like if all goes as planned (though it rarely does because these characters do what they want) next chapter should have much more spideypool overtones


	12. Great Responsibility?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> who let Peter be in charge

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OKAY SO APPARENTLY THE MAJORITY OF THIS CHAPTER WASN'T EVEN POSTED AND I DIDN'T EVEN NOTICE????? like goddamn, whoops, the rest of it should be up now hahaha yikes

In Ellie's opinion, Saturdays were the _best._

She was pretty sure most people shared that opinion, but her personal Saturdays were _especially_ the best. Not only did she not have school, not only did she not have homework to do, but _people were home!_ Emily and Jeff and Shane sometimes grabbed her from next door and would take her on adventures or to see her abuela. Plus, Peter usually stopped by, and if he wasn't busy with his nerd shit or his ass kicking, he would even sleep over. Honestly, her, Wade, and Pete made up just about the coolest squad you'd ever meet.

And this Saturday, well, this one was going to be a good one, she could just _tell._ Her dad was being extra nice lately (Not that he wasn't always super nice, but it seemed he was really putting in that extra effort that made him a real asset to the parenting department. Promotion was just around the corner.) and had decided that not only was desert for breakfast was an acceptable life choice, but he was making everything _homemade._ And she got to lick all of the bowls! This translated to her being able to eat brownie batter at nine am with a myriad of different cookies baking in the oven, while her dad and her plotted on the best way to wake up Sleeping Petey. The poor guy was crashed out on their couch, and fun fact, he was a snorer. Ellie was fiercely advocating the classic “shaving creme to the face” trick, except with webbing. Wade was arguing that they should go the route of waving some of the baked cookies under his nose like smelling salts. Ellie argued that that was no fun, her dad authoritatively crossed his arms and said, “Now, now, El, let's cut him some slack. He was up 'til three am last night.”

“Yeah, with us, watching _The Princess Bride._ And yet, you don't see my ass snoring on the couch.” 

“How would you feel if I woke you up to a face full of webbing on a Saturday?”

“I'd start a prank war that would span generations.”

In a deadpan voice, her dad responded, “Ellie, literally any prank war between us would be a prank war that would span generations.”

“ _Exactly.”_

“....You want to start a prank war now, don't you?”

“Gee, Dad, what could've given you that idea?”

Her dad leaned back to look at the sleeping figure before leaning in and saying, “Pete's terrible at pulling pranks. Especially if there's a child involved. Let's kick his ass.”

“ _Hell yeah.”_

However, before they had the chance to pull some shit, the kitchen timer went off, startling the both of them. Peter, however, was unaffected beyond a bit of snuffling.

Wade started to shove on oven mitts as he shot Ellie a raised eyebrow and asked, “We resume our nefarious actions after the cookies have cooled?”

“Affirmative, Captain.”

Rather carefully for a man who was accustomed to regularly losing limbs, Wade opened the oven and withdrew the cookies. About .5 seconds later, Peter's eyes shot open as he sprung up to a sitting position, his head snapping to look at Wade with an intensity that would not have been expected for someone that just woke up.

“Are those homemade ginger snap cookies?”

Wade and Ellie shot each other a look before Wade cautiously replied, “Amongst other things, yeah.”

Peter gave a little gasp as his face lit up with just the dopiest (and in no way endearing, shut up) grin, before softly whispering, “Yeeeesssssss,” and shuffling his way over to the kitchen counter. In a manner that was only slightly zombiesque, Peter reached out to the delicious morsels before his hand was properly smacked away by Wade. 

“Uh, uh, uh, _no touchie._ These babies need to cool down before you put your filthy mitts all over them.”

Peter broke out is best pout and puppy dog eyes, but honestly the nerd had _nothing_ on Eleanor's "please give me what I want or you'll wound me" face. Wade's immunity to the puppy dog eyes was far superior to most mortal men. Truly, his heart was hardened, only stone remained in his chest, but if Pete kept giving him that look he still had the potential to break, so he quickly spit out, "Parker, _no_. Cookies are cookies, and your small wounded animal look will do nothing to change the fact that they need to _cool the fuck down_."

 Peter looked rather displeased, but leaned back and accepted his fate like the mature adult he was.

"Fine. Fair enough. I have enough will power to practice some amount of patience and self-retrai- HA!"

The bastard. _The absolute bastard._ Honestly, what a goddamn cheater, who even let him inside this house. The _worst superhero ever_ had somehow found the time to shove on his web shooters in the like 30 seconds that it had taken him to talk, shot out a web to snatch one of the crumbling ginger snaps before promptly scurrying up the wall and onto the ceiling like the vermin that he was. Peter smugly snacked on his ill gotten gains, getting crumbs just freaking _everywhere_ , because cookies fall apart when they're fresh out of the oven, _Peter_ , god. Peter also burned his stupid tongue, because _karma._

However, Pete refused to show any weakness, and was currently hanging by his feet with a shit eating grin on his face . Ellie and Wade exchanged a look of absolute murder, and a silent agreement was reached that the war had begun, it was time to attack, all quiet on the western front be _damned_.

Ellie was the one that started a battle cry, and Peter's expression immediately shifted from self-satisfied to "Oh _shit_ ". Ellie brought her trusty wooden spoon and a large amount of attitude, while Wade told her he would back her up in a minute, but, because of priorities (honestly) he was a little busy transferring the various cookies off of the metal cookie sheet and onto some cooling racks nearby. Literally the second that he had gently laid down the last snicker-doodle onto the rack, he brandished his spatula (Metal one too. Perfect for facing down their spidery foe.) and joined his daughter in this glorious battle. Peter was going the flight rather than fight route, still scrambling across the ceiling like a goddamn _coward_ , come down here and fight like a civilized human being, asshat!

Laughter from Pete only egged the two of them on, before Ellie gave her dad a determined look and stated, "Yo, Pops. Shoulders. Now."

 Wade happily obliged, scooping her up so that she could be high and mighty and take down this wretched beast that has entered their home. And indeed, she could reach the ceiling. It was time for Peter to literally be knocked down a peg or several.

Wade ran, Ellie was armed, and with a mighty screech they headed for the supposedly unconquerable spider. Pete was fast, but they had a fire in their souls that could more than compensate. They got the bug cornered, and just as the big climax was about to happen and victory was within their reach, Wade's phone went off, which kinda ruined the moment. However, Eleanor would not be easily defeated, so she began to bat at Peter with the spoon even as her father checked his stupid lame phone.

While Peter cried out such things like "Ow! Hey, watch it!" and "Not the face!" and "All I did was steal some bread!", her dad let out a load groan once he saw the caller ID. Wade somehow managed to do this thing where he took the fighting Ellie of off his shoulders with one hand as he told the room, "Looks like the pirate is calling.” This, in turn, brought forth a dramatic sigh and "Nooooooo" from Peter and Ellie, respectively. No one wanted him to answer the call. Everyone was also aware that you do _not_ ignore a phone call from Nicholas _Motherfucking_ Fury, so, yeah...

Wade headed upstairs to get some privacy, Ellie slumped her shoulders and let her weapons fall to the floor, and Pete did a slightly over-dramatic flip from the ceiling to land on his feet. He turned to Ellie and asked, “The consulting job?”

Not bothering to hide her pout, Ellie affirmed, “The consulting job.”

See, the consulting job was super nifty, because it made bank, didn't require murder, and had flexible hours. Unfortunately, said flexible hours actually meant whenever there was an emergency, so sometimes said flexible hours meant the weekends. Ugh.

According to Wade at this exact moment, being an adult was the _worst._ Still, he tried to be cheerful as he said, “Gotta go look at some weird alien tech from a different reality, should be back in a few hours, I'll try to smuggle some of it for Ellie's 'weird shit' collection.”

He then shot Peter two pistols and a wink, commenting, “Oh, and you're babysitting. Don't get my kid killed. Don't let her kill you. There's twenty bucks on the counter for pizza, and her bed time is never because it's Saturday. Let a kid live her life. Capisce?”

The wide-eyed look and sudden stiffness that Peter was presenting was probably meant to indicate that absolutely _not_ capisce, but Wade had already made his exit. Peter's brief stint as a teacher had made him well aware of the fact that he should never be in charge of children. Granted, no one _died_ or anything, but one student did get, uh, a little..liquefied.

Ellie, on the other hand, apparently already had everythingfigured out. She tossed him a can of silly string with a wide smirk on her face. Blinking a few times to come out of the Jean Grey School, Peter finally asked, “Wait, what's this for?”

“To defend yourself.”

“From what?”

Ellie's smirk turned to a full-blown shit eating grin, as she held up one arm and rolled down her sleeve to reveal a glint of metal. Shit, were those his web shooters?

“How the hell?”

“Dude. You spaced for like two minutes. Getting these things was....child's play.”

Peter let out an exaggerated groan (hypocrite), before bending down on one knee and placing a hand on her shoulder.

“I'm so sorry that your father and I have corrupted you in this manner.”

“Bro, pun telling is in my blood, there's not much you could have done to prevent me from fulfilling what was foretold.”

Peter raised his eyebrows and tilted his head in a “fair enough” gesture, before Ellie's look went vicious.

“We meet again, La Araña,” before shooting him directly in the face with his own webbing. Thank god he was currently using the kind that dissolved after an hour. Still, she had used his vulnerable position against him, which was just plain _rude._

Maybe it said something about him that he went into immediate fight mode against a child, but in one swift motion the webbing was pulled from his face ( _wow_ that stuff was annoying. He would have felt bad about using it against bad guys if they weren't, you know, murderers and thugs.) and encapsulated her light up sneakers in orange silly string. Ellie let out a delighted squeal before regaining her composure as a fierce warrior and climbing up the stairs to gain an advantageous position. Now that she had a range weapon, the spider could not run from her. However, he was clever enough to change his strategy from flight to fight. He was relentless. She was merciless. An unstoppable force meets an immovable object.

Which was probably how what would've been, on average, a fifteen minute battle turned into a 2 hour long war that only ended when the exceedingly large supply of silly string ran out. (Ellie had a stock pile built up, because of _course_ she did.) The warriors had been left with Peter was stuck to the wall, Ellie was so thoroughly covered in string she looked like she was wearing a multi-colored ghillie suit, and and a house that...had seen better days. Anyone that entered would recognize the place as a former battlefield.

Luckily for Peter, enough of the webbing had begun to break down that he could make his escape from the wall. Using that handy dandy super strength of his, Peter tore himself from the webbing prison and dramatically collapsed on the floor with a groan. Ellie decided to follow suit, shuffling over to where Peter was and flopping down onto his back.

“Your dad's gonna kill me.”

“Mmm. Maybe. He did that, for awhile.”

Peter popped up his head, took a quick look around, before promptly smushing his face back on the floor.

“We gotta clean up.”

“Ehhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh.”

“You're not helping.”

“I'm ten. Helpfulness isn't my strong suit.”

“That has nothing to do with your age and _everything_ to do with your heritage.”

Ellie gave him a swat for that, but it was half-hearted at best. He tried to retaliate with a gentle kick, but the angle didn't really work so his legs just ended up flailing in the air. Apparently, this last bit of movement used up the remaining iota of energy they had possessed, and they lapsed into a silence and didn't bother to move from the floor.

After about ten minutes and just before Peter straight up fell asleep, he managed to prop himself up on his elbows, which displaced an already asleep Ellie and earned him an earful of whining.

“Come on Ellie, we really do have to clean up before your dad gets back."

“NooooooooOoOoooo.”

“Wade will probably arrive soon, and I know he knows how to get away with murder, and I rather like living. At the very least we need to get off the floor.”

“That's the worst idea you've ever had, Parker. Plus, do we _know_ that Dad's coming back that soon?”

“Actually, no.”

“Well then let's not worry about it. I don't wanna get up.”

If Peter were being a responsible  adult, he'd probably argue with her, maybe even push her off of him. However, Peter was not particularly good at the whole “responsible adult” thing, and he didn't really wanna get up either, so he ended up letting his face fall back to the wonderfully supportive floor. Thankfully, he didn't have to regret his decision, because a light bulb went off as he asked, “Yo, can I have one of my web shooters back?”

“Yeah, sure thing. Don't know if there's any web fluid in it though.”

Peter gave a half shrug as Ellie sort of tossed the web shooter near his hand, and patted around for a bit before locating it. He slid it on his wrist and then gave the room a quick glance to try and figure out where exactly he left his phone. It was poking out of the layer of silly string that encompassed most of the kitchen counter, and if he could just aim properly...

He succeeded in attaching a line of webbing to the edge of the phone, but it was good he had had the foresight to add a protective case, because it immediately landed on the tile below.  From there, Pete was able to drag it towards himself and grab it, all without having to get up.

Thank god there weren't any voice-mails or texts in all caps on his phones. It'd be kind of hard to explain to the Avengers why he had shown up fifteen minutes late with a small child. He did, however, have a message from Wade.

_Hey babe, job ran long, won't be home until later tonight_

“Radical.”

 “What?”

 “We don't have to clean yet.”

 Ellie and Peter let out a mutual sigh of relief and probably would have fallen asleep again, except that when Peter mumbled out, “You know, we never got around to eating those cookies,” Ellie was up and at the kitchen table faster than should have been possible without super speed. (Oh god, did she have super speed? What even _were_ her mutant powers? Was there anything beyond the healing thing? Shit.) She was already halfway through the second snickerdoodle by the time Peter had dragged himself up and over to a chair, but, eh, he wasn't exactly going to stop her. Especially since the minute the baked goods had been within reach, he bogarted pretty much all of the gingersnaps (Fine by Ellie. She secretly knew that her dad had made them for Pete in the first place, as gingersnaps weren't really her thing) and shoved them in his face. They ate in silence for about 30 seconds before Ellie gave a grabby hands motion at him and said, “Hand me your phone.”

 He raised an eyebrow, but handed it over without protest ( _please don't text Captain America please don't text Captain America)._ She enigmatically pressed a few buttons, before holding up the display. It was set for a five minute countdown, which Ellie promptly explained by saying, “My dad went a little overboard with the baking. Cooked approximately 170 cookies, because we, for some frickin' reason, have an industrial sized mixer in this house and can make like octuple batches. After what we've already consumed and what was too covered in webbing to recover, I estimate that there's still about 140 left. I say we put 70 on each plate, start the timer, and see who will be the ultimate champion.”

 “Feeling a bit competitive today?”

 “Gotta establish my dominance somehow, right?”

 “You're _so_ on.”

 Four minutes and 57 seconds later, and Eleanor Camacho was begging for the sweet release of death. She had consumed 42 cookies, had pushed the plate aside in favor of letting her head on the table and was making a loud groaning noise. The baked goods had betrayed her. She may not have had many regrets in her short life so far, but this was definitely near the top of her list.

 Peter, on the other hand, was happily munching along, and going for his 53rd cookie. A little bit of smugness creeping into his voice, Peter said, “I don't know what you expected. I'm over twice your size and have the super fast metabolism all superheros appear to possess.”

 Ellie, if her stomach had not been telling that she was dying, probably, would have made a very eloquent argument. Instead, she grumbled out, “'m super too.”

 “That you are. However, I probably should've warned you, I've beaten your dad in eating contests.”

 Ellie managed to sit up and that, heavily leaning on her elbows and doing her best scrutinizing glare at Peter. “There's no way. Dad can eat forever.”

 “I swear it's true. We match in pace, but in the end, I can simply eat more.” 

“When the hell did you even _have_ an eating contest with Dad? Why wasn't I there?” 

“It was before he knew about you kiddo. It was a post team-up thing. After the Chameleon, I think. A hot dog eating contest seemed like the most appropriate course of action, for some reason.”

 “Well, damn. You have earned my respect.”

Ellie glanced over to the entertainment center, before turning back to Peter and saying, “Do we still have time before we have to clean?”

 Peter gave a shrug. “Sure, why not?”

 “We have a karaoke machine preloaded with terrible 80's and 90's pop. Plus, we can sync it to Dance Dance Revolution if we're up for a challenge.”

 “I can't sing to save my life. DDR, however, I'm a champ at.”

 “Yes, because home karaoke machines are always known for drawing in only the best of the best singers. Also, I don't believe you.”

 “About the singing or the dancing?”

 “Dancing.”

 “Sounds like you're throwing down the gauntlet.”

 “Depends. Are you willing to accept it?”

 “You just have to prove you're the alpha, don't you?”

 “Usually.”

 “You know, it doesn't _have_ to be a contest. We could just do things for the fun of them.”

 Somehow a ten year old had mastered the art of the bitch-face, to which Peter dramatically threw his arms up in the air and said, “Fine. I pick up the gauntlet. Happy?”

 “I will indulge in satisfaction _after_ I've kicked your ass, Parker.”

 Peter very maturely rolled his eyes at her and she stuck her tongue out at him. As he made a face back, he found his way to the entertainment system and was going to set everything up, until he realized that he was a little lost. Sure, he could _probably_ figure it out, but A) it would taker longer than he cared to admit, and B) he was the adult and thus he technically had the authority to make _other_ people do it. However, he wasn't going to be a complete asshole about it and _command_ Ellie to do it. Instead, he gave her a slightly helpless look, and it was Ellie's turn to roll her eyes at him.

 “I thought you were supposed to be a genius.”

 Peter gave her a half-hearted shrug as he replied, “Eh, only in certain areas.”

“Still, you're a _biophysicist,_ you should be able to figure this out.”

“I mean, I _co_ _uld...”_

 Ellie let out a bit of a huff, before shoving him aside and reconfiguring the entertainment system herself. Good thing she had insisted on learning how to do without her Dad's help. She gave herself a mental self-five for her independence when the screen appeared with blaring colors and obnoxious vocals, before standing up, briefly wiping her hands together, and giving a little “ta-dah!” gesture at the TV.

 Turning around, she gave a smirk and held up the remote.

 “You ready to get your ass kicked?

 “ _Bring it.”_

 Ellie placed one hand over her eyes and used the other to make a selection at random, you know, to eliminate any bias (there were definitely songs that she had practiced more than others, to select would provide an unfair advantage) and they were on their way to fame and glory and crowning the ultimate karaoke/DDR champ.

 Except.

Except Pete was _not_ exaggerating when he claimed he couldn't sing. Ten seconds into “Love Shack” and Ellie felt like her ears were bleeding, so she shuts that shit _down._

 With a flick of her wrist (and the pressing of a button), she turned off the television to spare herself any more pain before giving Peter a hard stare.

 “Note to self: we're _never_ letting you do karaoke again.”

 “I told you I couldn't sing.”

 “I thought you were being humble!”

 Peter threw his arms up in the air, voice almost cracking when he replied, “Why would I be humble about this?! I took selfies for a living, humility is not my speciality!”

 Ellie planted her feet and crossed her arms, glaring as she said, “God, you're like an older brother I never wanted.”

 Pete responded with a very mature and adult sneer as he replied, “Yeah, well, you're like a step-daughter that I was never prepared for.” 

“You're sayin' you're gonna marry my dad, Parker?”

 Despite trying to play it cool (because Peter _always_ excels at that), his face ended up flushed as he sputtered out, “ Wha-? _N_ _o._ Gross. Not's that your dad's gross or anything, uh, but, _frankly,_ I'm not even – not even _interested_ in romance right now. Love is for children and whatever.” 

Ellie raised her eyebrows and deadpanned a “Smooth,” before continuing with, “ Plus, love is for children _my entire ass._ First of all, as I child, I can confirm love is _not_ for me, and secondly, that's coming from the man who's had at least thirteen love interests.” 

“ _Pfft,_ what? That's gotta be way too high of an estimate.” 

Ellie brought up her hands and began to count them off on her fingers. 

“Gwen Stacy, Mary Jane Watson, Carlie Cooper, Silver Sable, Carol Danvers, Cindy Moon, Betty Brant, Liz Allan, Jessica Drew, Felicia Hardy-”

 “Okay, you've made your point! Though, what, how do you know these things?”

Ellie gives a one shoulder shrug as she tells him, “I read.”

 “Read _what?”_

 “Wikis, databases, that sort of thing. It's mostly stuff from Universe-1218, don't worry about it.”

Peter opened his mouth to ask more questions, because apparently Eleanor could get Internet feeds from alternate universes, _what the hell,_ but snapped it shut because he wasn't fully prepared to go down that rabbit hole. Also, he still had contacts for Miles Morales and Spider-Gwen, so really communication between realities wasn't really that far from the norm. Hell, between clone sagas and alien symbiotes and possessions and _tokens_ and whatever else, interdimensional wifi practically was the norm. It was a little weird that he'd never heard of Universe-1218, but, holy shit, there were so many alternate realities it was pretty much impossible to keep track. He'd probably ask Wade about it later, assuming he even knew (Ellie was a crafty kid. It wasn't exactly impossible for her to have found a multi-verse hack.), but for now he was dropping it.

 Peter made a motion with his head at the TV, and moved forward by saying, “You know, we still haven't crowned a DDR champion.”

 Ellie arched an eyebrow as she turned the TV back on. Thank god, “Love Shack” was over and the main menu was ready. She selected a “Dance Only” option (meaning, in this case, ripping out the microphones and hoping for the best), and immediately went for the hardest level, because this was “do or die” time. The synth pop blared loudly, and without warning the two of them were on their own pads, frantically trying to keep up with the motions. To both of their surprises, they were pretty evenly matched. Ellie had youth and boundless energy on her side, Peter had the whole, you know, _useful_ super powers-

  **Hey! My superpowers are super useful!**

How..who..wha-.. Who is this? Wade isn't even in this part of the chapter what the hell.

**Yeah I know. This is Ellie!**

 Ellie? What? How did you even get here?

  **Well apparently the ability to break the fourth wall is a heritable trait. Neat, huh?**

 Yeah, I guess. _Why_ are you here? Aren't you kinda busy?

  **I got bored. And you were talkin' trash about my powers, I had to defend myself.**

Well, I mean, comparatively...

  **Um, I can't die, that's badass in my book. Pete can die. His healing factor's got _nothin'_ on me an' Dad's. **

 You're not supposed to know these things!

  **Dad and Pete are bad at whispering and good at being fooled into thinking I'm sleeping.**

That's fair. You're gonna keep that between us though, right?

  **You betcha. My lips are sealed.**

 Rad. Now can we get back to the story? This chapter's already gonna be way over the standard word count without this little discourse adding to it.

… **.Not until you admit my powers are more useful than Peter's. And cooler!**

 Cooler? I dunno....

 (◕‿◕✿)

Fine, they're cooler and more useful. You win.

**Thank you!**

 Anyway, Peter had that whole super speed and flexibility thing on his side. When he put his mind to it, he was actually coordinated and graceful. He just...rarely put his mind to it.

 In the end, despite all of her training, there was one move that she had yet to master. It involved leaning back with your feet planted to touch the back arrow with your hand. It was essentially a one handed bridge and, to be honest, she had quit gymnastics after about two weeks, there was no way she was gonna pull that off. Peter, however, pulled it off flawlessly, the _bastard_ , and ended up with five points more than Ellie because of it.

 Goddamn him.

 When the song was over, his avatar was donned with a crown, and he threw up his arms with a little whoop of victory. Now, Ellie wasn't a sore loser, so she admirably kicked the carpet, muttered, “Cheater,” under her breath, and gave a rather sarcastic bow at Peter.

 “My liege.”

 Peter placed his hands on his hips and puffed out his chest, his grin a little too wide for a contest against a child (though in all honesty she's more of a worthy opponent than most) as he said, “That's right! And as your king, I declare that we officially need to start cleaning up.”

 

“Dude, King of Dance Dance Revolution is an honorary title. It doesn't actually grant you any power.”

 Peter replied with a smirk, which, well, was never a good sign.

 “Perhaps not. However, I am the babysitter. My word is _law_ until a parent comes back. I could send you to your room, you know.”

 Ellie rolled her eyes at that, because she had her doubts about how much power a _babysitter_ had, even if said babysitter was a superhero is his spare time. Nanny, _maybe,_ but babysitters had, like, substitute teacher levels. Unless they were actively entertaining them, they had no sway with children. Exception to the rule: if they're terrifying, they influence what the kid's gonna do. Peter was pretty much the opposite of terrifying.

Voice devoid of emotion, she replied, “Oh no. How horrible. I'd have to spend an extended amount of time alone with my books and Internet. Just the worst.”

Peter's smirk did not falter. Alarm bells were starting to go off, but she would show no weakness.

 And then he said the most dreaded words she could've imagined, “I'll change the wifi password.”

 There was fear on her features and she knew her eyes went wide, but she tried to keep her voice even as she replied, “You wouldn't.”

 “I would.”

 “... I still have books.”

 “You also have your father's attention span.”

  _Crap._ He had her there. If she was forced to stay in her room for too long without constant distraction, she'd go stir crazy. Hell, she might go stir crazy anyway. She was having a restless day. No, no, she could still turn this to her advantage. Her mind began to work furiously as she scanned for some bit of information that could get her out of this. He was enough of a little shit himself that puppy dog eyes weren't gonna work. She _could_ just start cleaning, but that seemed to much like admitting to defeat. She could try to out stubborn him and just not move from her spot in the living room, but that got real exhausting real fast. For both of them.

 Looks like she would go the tried and true Wilson method of “not shutting up and hoping for the best”.

 “You know, there's tons of psychological research to show that positive reinforcement is a more effective method than any sort of punishment in learning a practice, _ergo,_ if you would like me to help clean, there should be some sort of reward for my behavior, in order to encourage future positive results.”

Peter blinked at her for a few moments, before letting out a laugh and giving her a light punch on the shoulder.

“With a mouth like that, you're more ready to be a superhero than I initially thought.”

 Her eyes lit up.

 “Does that mean I can-”

“No.”

Aaannndd the flames were quenched. Killjoy.

Peter looked off into the distance, pretending to stroke a beard and giving a few (unnecessary) thoughtful “hmms” before speaking again.

 “Well, how about the negative reinforcement of not getting yelled at when Wade gets home.”

 “Dad only yells at me when my life has been threatened. And he likes you too much to yell. If anything, he'll just be disappointed we finished the battle without him.”

 “...We can watch R-rated movies.”

 “I do that anyway.”

 “I would offer money but I have none.”

 “I'm aware.” 

“Why are you being so difficult?”

 Ellie gave him a saccharine sweet smile and placed her hands gently under her chin, the image of innocence. Through fluttering eyelashes, she replied, “Because I'm a punk kid. Duh.” 

Peter gave a fond smile and ruffled her hair, to which she grumpily crossed her arms and stuck out her tongue. “Looks like birds of a feather flock together.”

 “Since when do you qualify as a kid?”

 “Since I started being on a team with Captain America. To him, everyone is a kid.”

Ellie gave a brief held tilt to indicate a “Fair”, and Peter suddenly got a brilliant idea.

 “Well how about this for a deal: we get this place cleaned up, and I owe you a favor of your choosing, and it can be pretty much anything that isn't directly life-threatening, or, you know, extremely illegal.”

Ellie was going to go sarcastic, because honestly what a lame offer, but then the gears started to turn. This man was a superhero with access to a state of the art lab. He fought super-villains on a regular basis. And he would be temporarily under her beck and call? There are thousands of people who would straight up _murder_ for this kind of opportunity. The possibilities were endless.

 Peter was holding out his hand to solidify the arrangement. She enthusiastically took his hand and gave an enthusiastic nod. Then, after taking a moment to truly take in the pure _amount_ of crap they had to clean up, she resolutely said, “There's no way I'm doing this without montage music.”

He tilted his head towards the entertainment system and asked, “Does it have an aux cord?”

 Ellie replied, “What are we, barbarians?” before handing it to him. Peter, for once in his life, had his shit together and already had a playlist queued up. The cheerful first notes of “Wake Me Up Before You Go Go” began to blast through the house. Disgusting. Ellie loved it.

 The next two hours were occupied with cleaning up the slowly dissolving webbing and silly string. Well, sort of. It probably should've taken them about 45 minutes to get the basic task done, but setting up a trash bag to see if they could turn it into a hot air balloon, dramatic lip syncing to “I will survive” and a few too many dance breaks kind of wrecked their efficiency.

 Nine trash bags later and the house (ignoring Ellie's room and the multi-colored stains the silly string left on the carpet) was probably cleaner than it was before. Peter and Ellie slumped onto the couch with a self-satisfied huff. They took a few seconds to bask in the glory of a living space that would probably never be this clean again, before Peter held out a fist. Ellie happily bumped it with her own.

 Peter scanned the room once again, taking a few mental measurements before blurting out, “Wanna build a fort?”

 Trying to keep the incredulity out of her voice, Ellie lolled her head towards him and asked, “Weren't you the one that said we had clean up in the first place?”

 “A pillow fort is a masterpiece, not a mess. I haven't made good fort in like three years due to having approximately one and a half blankets in my apartment, but I figure with the materials in this place, we could easily cover the kitchen, living room, and half way up the stairs without having to compromise quality. More if the stuffed animals are willing to join.”

 Really, how was she supposed to argue those numbers? With her boundless energy, she pushed off the couch and called out, “I'll get blankets!”

 Peter hurried to follow, replying, “I've got pillow duty covered!”

 Their total loot consisted of 27 standard blankets, 2 duvets, 4 comforters, 32 pillows, and countless stuffed animals. By the time they had gotten halfway through assembling this ~~disaster~~ work of art, it was less of a fort and more of a village. Ellie was in the middle of stringing up fairy lights on the entrance way when she suddenly froze. Dropping the lights, she called into the ocean of coziness, “Ey oh Pete!”

Peter's head poked out in between two blankets that were currently forming a canopy on the ceiling.

 “What's up, El?”

 “I'd like to trade in my favor.”

 “What, now?”

 Ellie was practically vibrating at this point, and Peter was more than a little concerned.

 “OfcoursenowhonestlybutseriouslywhatthehellarewedoingherewhenwecouldbedoingWAYmoreexcitingingthings.”

 When she finally paused for breath, Peter interrupted to say, “Ellie. Chill.”

She let out the breath and forced herself to slow down, even if she was still bouncing in place.

 “I'm just saying why I am I not out and about with Spider-man? Like, we could be swinging from rooftops and punching bad guys and sneaking into the lab and doing science stuff _right now._ I'm callin' it. That's my favor.”

  _Absolutely not. No way. You'll probably get hurt and I can't allow that again. Your dad would agree._

“Dude, if you want a day for the full Spider-man experience, why wouldn't you make it a full _day?_ It's already like 3:30. Plus, the lab's way cooler on week days, trust me.” 

Conflict flickered across Ellie's features, caught between instant gratification and the promise of an even better experience. She began to chew on her bottom lip, because she really _really_ wanted to go out this instant, but she could hardly say she wasn't enjoying herself right now. Their fort wasn't yet complete, and if the lab really _was_ cooler on weekdays....

 “Go check the stairway blanket arches. I fear they're sagging in the middle.”

 Peter gave an, “On it, Captain,” before venturing back into the depths of the fort. Once Ellie was out of sight, Peter let out a sigh of relief. He was not prepared for “A Day with Spider-man,” at least not yet. First, he'd have to get the Avengers to clear the area so that he wouldn't have to engage in battle in the middle of the day, and he'd talk with his supervisors at the lab to make sure there wasn't anything super dangerous or super classified they were working on. Oh god, he was actually considering this, wasn't he? Well, it wasn't _that_ bad of an idea. If everything went well (because that's usually what happens), Ellie wouldn't be in any real danger. It's fine. He could show her that a day in the superhero was actually way more boring than people thought. (Okay that's a lie a lot of it is just _so cool._ ) Whatever. He'll cross that bridge when he gets there. For now, they had a pillow fort to finish.

 Another hour and the finishing touches on the fort were completed. Satisfied by a job well done, they dug into a thing of ice cream, pulled one of the extra blankets around their shoulders, and settled in to watch _The Parent Trap._ They made snarky comments at the screen for about 45 minutes, before settling into a comfortable, if tired, silence.

 With the ice cream gone and the movie 2/3 over, both Ellie's and Peter's eyes were getting heavy, despite it not being all that late. Peter had actually assumed that Ellie was already gone, until she spoke in an uncharacteristically quiet voice.

 “Hey Pete?”

 Peter briefly shook his head and blinked hard a few times to wake himself up, before looking down at Ellie's frumpled form. She had been so soft-spoken that he wasn't sure that she had said anything at all, but she was looking up at him with expectant eyes, so she must have. 

“What's up, El?”

 “Can you promise me something?”

 “Probably. What is it?”

 She avoided eye contact then, and started to apprehensively chew on her thumbnail. Under different circumstances, he probably would've swatted at her for the bad habit. Now, however, it just seemed rude. After a few moments of prolonged silence, he gave her a little nudge of encouragement, and she responded with an almost-whisper.

 “Promise not to hurt my dad?”

 Huh. Well, he didn't know what he was expecting, but it wasn't that. The only thing he could think of to say was, “Why would I hurt your dad?”

 Her initial reaction was an unhelpful shrug, but then she paused and actually thought about the words she needed.

 “Because...because I think a lot of people have hurt him. He doesn't tell me things, but..I think it hasn't just bad guys that have been mean. I think people that he really likes and wanted to be friends with were mean to him. And maybe now he just kind of...expects it? Like, he always seems so surprised when people are nice to him, and that's not okay. Plus, Pete, he _really_ likes having you around. And just likes you in general. Besides me and the fam, you're probably one of his favorite people. If you hurt him, it'd be like extra painful. Also...”

 She finally looked up at him and even gave him a weak smile as she punched him in the arm.

 “ _I_ like having you around, but I'd have to kick your skinny ass if you were mean to him.”

 Peter swallowed a pang of uncertainty in order to reassuringly ruffle Ellie's hair as he told her, “Well, you don't need to worry about me. I got no plans to be mean to your dad. I like Wade too. And I _guess_ the guy's daughter isn't _too_ bad.”

 She stuck her tongue out at him for that comment, before completely ruining the moment by giving a large yawn. She smacked her chops a few times, and seeming satisfied with his answer, curled up on his side. Now that she was comfortable, it took her all of five minutes before she was out. Pete couldn't help but watch her for a second, her breathing soft and her face pressed against his side. In this particular moment, he could see why Wade enjoyed being a father so much.

 Speak of the devil, this little tranquil scene was quickly interrupted by Peter's phone going off. Carefully, he tried to move in a way that wouldn't disturb Ellie as he retrieved his phone from his back pocket and answered the phone.

 “ _Petey pie! Hey snookum_ _s_ _, how you doin'? Never mind,_ _no_ _time. So anyway, job didn't go quite as planned, lotta blood, gonna need you to drop off Ellie next door! Be home in twenty!_ _Kthxbye”_

That was odd. Also, concerning. Peter put back his phone and looked down at Ellie, quietly wondering how deep she was. He shuffled out from under her, to where she fell onto the duvet they had been sitting on. Still out. As gently as possible, he picked her up with one arm and used the other to grab the blanket and wrap it around her. She barely moved, except to nuzzle her face in Pete's shoulder and make a few snuffling noises. Goddamn, it was adorable.

Nervously and with a severe lack of shoes, Peter went up and knocked on Emily's door while still balancing Ellie on one hip. Emily quickly answered and placed both hands over her heart and straight up cooed, “That's precious. I can't believe you tuckered her out so early!”

She then must have taken pity on the somewhat befuddled Peter, because she easily took Ellie into her arms and officially relieved him of babysitter duty.

 Well.

 Sort of.

 What she actually said was, “Alrightie, I got Ellie, but would you mind taking Wade duty tonight? He's gonna need a friendly face.”

 Peter had given her a cheerful, “Sure thing!” and two thumbs up, which, in retrospect, was probably too much. After she closed her door, he ran back over, slammed the door closed, and fell against it. Oh god. What even consisted of “Wade duty”? Did it require medical knowledge or just a tolerance for people who never shut up? He had one of those. He _was_ one of those people. Why did Wade say “lotta blood” when referring to the job going awry? Was he _lying_ about the consulting job? Had he turned back to his mercenary ways? Oh man, was gonna be _so_ pissed if that turned out to be the case. 

Some might say he was panicking. Peter would say he was an appropriate level of concerned. Actually, looking back on it, he would say that he should've been way _more_ concerned.

 A small knock on the door startled Peter more than he cared to admit, and he immediately spun around and opened the door. The sight on the other side was...something. It was Wade shaped, sort of. First of all, he had the costume on, which probably would have made him see red, except that the suit was the least of Peter's concerns at the moment. By logical accounts, Wade shouldn't have been upright. He was carrying one arm in the other hand, his legs were so trashed that you could see the bone in several areas, and his torso was about 95% _hole._ Seriously, his chest looked like it had a cannon tear through it. Worst of all is that right after Wade gave him a huge grin (in mask?? How does he _do_ that?), waved with the _severed arm_ for fuck's sake, and only got out, “Honey, I'm home!” before _his head fucking fell off of his body, what the actual fuck._

Peter had seen a lot of fucked up shit in his day, but as Wade's body (or, what was left of it) crumpled to the ground, he was decently sure that this took the cake. Eyes wide and face blanched, Peter's internal monologue basically consisted of _“Fuck! What? AHHHHHHHHHH”._ Luckily, the past decade had consisted of him keeping his body moving even when his brain was essentially non-functional. Running on auto-pilot, his mouth said a sardonic, “Goddammit, you got blood on the new fort,” while his arms started to gather up Wade's pieces.

 Only after he had Wade semi-reassembled on the couch did he finally take a few minutes to calm himself down. A few minutes later, and the constant internal screaming died down to actual thoughts. He recognized that it was probably a good call on Wade's part to not have Ellie witness this. He wondered about Wade's pain tolerance, and if his advanced healing actual helped with how much that should hurt. He deliberately avoided thinking about why Wade was in that _goddamn suit._ He watched with morose fascination as strings of tissue began to reform on Wade, covering exposed bones with muscles, reconnecting his head to his body, working on making a heart and lungs where emptiness previously resided. The scientist part of Peter thought is was _amazing,_ the normal part of him thought it was disgusting, and the majority of him needed a nap and/or drink. He didn't drink. Maybe he should start.

 Peter didn't know how long he stood there, watching and worrying. Probably too long. The rib cage was partially formed by the time he finally sighed, rubbed a hand over his face, and started busying himself. First step: pull a chair up next to the couch. Step two: Take the thoroughly bled on blanket that had been in the entry way down to the laundry room. Step three: Throw it in the hamper because it wasn't technically his blanket so he had no intention of dealing with the blood stains. Maybe later he'd be nice and pre-soak it, though. Depending on some of Wade's answers when the asshole finally woke up. Step four: Head up to the kitchen and reheat the Chinese take out. Step five: Plop ass back down in the chair and wait, because apparently he needed to be _right there_ when Wade woke up.

 He didn't have to wait long. By the time he sat down, the skin of his chest was already on its way to being grown back, and everything else had already healed. After a minute or so his chest began to rise and fall, and his eyes fluttered open. About goddamn time.

 

~*~

 

Wade woke up to dogs on the ceiling. Deciding that he didn't feel like processing that information right now, he turned his head to see a hazy figure next to him. _Is that an angel?_

 He squinted and blinked a few times and realized, _wait, no, it was just a a fuckin' dweeb_. He rolled his head back to stare at the dogs, which were apparently just a print on a blanket. Didn't explain why there was a blanket on the ceiling, but that seemed way less urgent than potential floating pups. His thoughts were still kind of murky, and with a jolt, he realized that he couldn't remember anything between collapsing at his door and waking up right now. Man, what a rip-off. What was even the point of being dead if you didn't get to make out with the personification of Death. How is the old gal anyway? When's even the last time he saw her? The Daniel Way run? He should consult the boxes, they always know stupid trivia like this.

  _Hey, you guys back online yet?_

 {Myyerrghweh.}

 [muffled rap music playing in the distance]

 So much for that. Seriously though, why hadn't he seen Death for a while? His daughter had. Maybe he wasn't the favorite anymore. I mean, yeah, he guessed that made sense but-

He was dragged out of his thoughts by Peter's foot poking him in the side. He turned back to face the man who actually looked damn concerned. Lol, what was that about? Peter quietly placed his Chinese food down (oh, Chinese sounded good. Shit, he was hungry.) and softly asked, “Hey, you okay?”

 What kind of fuckin' question was that? He hoped Peter meant in the physical sense rather than the mental one, because he hadn't been mentally quite alright since....

uh.....

Shit. Anyway, in the physical sense, then, no. But _relatively_ in the physical sense, yes. His organs were reformed and none of his bones were sticking out. Just the average levels of agony right now, no biggie. He pushed himself into and upright position before giving an enthusiastic double thumbs up and saying, “Super duper! Dandy as hell!” 

At first Peter looked skeptical, but that quickly transitioned to looking _pissed,_ and the feet that were resting on the couch were now violently kicking him. In a voice much more loud and shouty than strictly necessary, Peter barked, “Then what the hell?! Why are you in costume!? I swear to god Wade if you lied about retiring from being a mercenary I'm gonna -”

 “Dude holy shit chill!”

Wade had his arms defensively by his legs as he pressed himself further into the couch to try and stop the assault. Peter had paused for now, but his legs were hovering, poised for a fight. Wade took the opportunity to hold up a finger and say, “Okay, first of all, I'm _technically_ only wearing the pants and the mask of the suit, not the full thing. Actually, I think I like it better this way. Oo! I could make the top part a crop top! I look amazing in crop tops! Bruh, you should make the Spidey-suit a crop top. We could show off our glistening abs together! Distract the bad guys!”

Peter looked less than amused, his knee pulled back like the cocking of a gun. Wade continued, “Oh, untwist your britches, Petey! I wasn't lying about _shit._ I quit the merc' biz cold turkey, as promised. I'm enjoying the consultant job! Nine times out of ten, I'm bomb at it! Heh, bomb. Anyway, the job is usually on sight, sometimes shit goes bad and there's a big public stink, and when the Avengers get involved, it would look bad if some random citizen was helping fight their battles, aight? Plus, wearin' the suit in non-killing contexts is seriously helping my PR. Bugle's already half-convinced I've turned over a new leaf!”

 Peter muttered out a “Typical,” and looked no less ready to attack. Wade gave a shrug as he added, “ _Plus,_ it's fun to wear the old suit sometimes, even if it doesn't have all the old...attachments. And don't you give me that look, Parker, like you've never worn the costume in your apartment because you felt cool.”

 Peter let out a sigh and placed his legs gently back on the couch. The fury was apparently gone, and, oh hey, our old friend concern was back on Pete's face. Well, to Wade, it was hardly an old friend. Other people showing concern for him was more of a new acquaintance, and it weirded him out every time. Peter's brow furrowed slightly as he asked, “So, what exactly did happen?”

 Wade gave a wave of his hand as he said, “Like I talked about, sometimes a job goes awry. Today, an alien incendiary went off before we had a chance to neutralize it, a small galactic battle broke out, Fury nearly lost his other eye, and there was some moderate time travel. I won't bore you with the details.”

 Peter had his face scrunched and moved his mouth slightly as he talked to himself. Probably trying to connect Wade's injuries with his story. He was apparently satisfied with Wade's story, which, damn straight, Wade had no reason to lie. Peter's next course of action was to toss a fork at him.

 “What's this for?”

 Peter smirked a little, stood up, and told him, “Well, you're gonna scoot over, and then using that fork we're gonna split this lo mein while we watch _Legally Blonde_ because it's a great movie and I want to.”

 “Fair enough.”

 Wade tucked his legs underneath him, and as Peter slumped up against his side and offered up the take out container, he realized that's why he loved the guy so much. Pete had an uncanny ability to always know what he needed.

 It took a few seconds for him to realize what he had mentally said. He loved Peter.

Well, _duh._ Obviously. Platonically, of course. They'd been friends for months, seen some shit together, and now Peter was part of the family.

 I mean, sure, he'd sleep with the guy, but not in a weird way. More like in the way most people he knew would bang Captain America if given the opportunity, but didn't actively pursuit it.

And yeah, sure, he'd had a crush on Spider-man for years, but having a crush on the icon was completely different from being in love with the man behind the mask. See, no issue. Wade was sure there was never going to be any emotional fallout from this at any time ever. Just guys bein' dudes.

 Of course, his own mind had to fight him on this. He turned to look down at Peter, and suddenly everything was in slow motion as Peter looked up at him. Wade could see the soft swish of his hair and the slow progression of a soft smile, the light go on in his eyes. Also, the background had gone a variety of hazy pinks, and excessive glitter and rose petals were in the air. Oh no, Wade was not accepting this shojo manga bullshit. He gave a quick shake of his head, and Peter was back to normal, focus on the movie and twirling noddles onto his fork. Another blink, however, and Peter was smiling up at him again, but this time it featured the fucking TOS Star Trek romance lighting. He was backlit, the edges of his form softened, and the only harsh light focused on his eyes. They really were nice eyes...

No! Give not into temptation!

 Another shake of his head and Pete was back to the same, mouthing along with the movie that he'd seen a few too many times. See? Nothing to worry about, no messy feelings here! Except for the fact that Wade's heart rate was currently elevated, and that it was taking an incredible amount of will power not to just go for the kiss right here and now, and that Wade would probably be destroyed if it turned out that Peter had been fucking with him this entire time and this friendship was some undercover bullshit and Pete was about to leave any second like he secretly suspected, and, yeah, just ignore all that.

 …

 Goddammit it. Preston had fucking called it. She was gonna be smug for weeks when he finally told her. (And he was gonna end up telling her. He was weak.)

 Wade Winston Wilson was in love with Peter Benjamin Parker.

{[ _Fuck._ ]}

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry it's been so long since I last updated. I blame college and who I am as a person.


	13. Totally Fucked

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm pretty sure this chapter is literally two conversations and some pining.

 

This was fine. Everything's fine. One hundred percent okie dokie. Yep. No issues here.

[No issues? Really? From you?]

Okay, several issues here, complexes really, but not because of Peter Parker. Well, not _technically_ because of the man himself, who was actually decently understanding and helpful about how much of a mess he was. Thinking about Peter, however, was _not_ helping matters.

He couldn't exactly stop though, for obvious reasons.

Man, being in love sucked. Realizing you were in love sucked worse. Luckily, Micheal had taken Ellie to go meet Evan, Peter was busy with grad school or some such educational bullshit, and Bob was doing...something, probably. Who knows when it comes to Bob? Shane and Jeff had left earlier that morning because Shane had decided they needed a “Father-son” day, which summed up to this being the opportune time to go see Preston and talk to her about those messy feelings of his and get her extremely valuable opinion about it. Problem was, he didn't _wanna_ talk to her. He didn't wanna talk to anyone.

He _wanted_ to pace and mope. He hadn't had a good mope in awhile. The voices were even shutting up for once, which was surprising, considering this was an opportune time for them to mock him. Maybe the were being nice, but they were probably taking momentary pity on him. He gave it twenty minutes until they started bitching at him again. When that happened, he would almost certainly be a goddamn adult and _go talk to Preston, for_ _fuck_ _'s sake,_ but for now he was going to flop on the couch and let out piteous moans and wails. Goddammit, those moans were gonna be so goddamn piteous that the neighbors would think his place was haunted. Tell the pathetic creature see to light or some shit.

 

Too bad he had already seen the light. In fact, the light was fucking blinding and stung like a motherfucker and _jesus shit_ _why did he have to be in love with Peter._ He had been in love before, you'd fuckin' think he would've learned his lesson by now. It was dangerous to care about people, but it was just plain _stupid_ to be in love with them. Lord knows they're gonna leave, either through coming to their senses or just straight up dying, because the universe hated him. Good thing the feeling was mutual.

 

As for learning his lesson, well, Wade never was known for being the genius of the household. In fact, he was widely regarded as a _fucking idiot_ , and this was hardly the exception.

 

In response to this revelation and the killer headache that went with it, he finally meandered over to the couch and allowed himself to fall onto it, face pressed into a throw cushion and his body sprawled out in an uncomfortable manner. Not actually uncomfortable enough for him to move any part of his body, but uncomfortable enough that he was going to get up and be sore in weird places. If he got up at all, because he lived here now, half falling off of the couch and about two seconds from screaming into the pillow.

 

Scratch that. Those two seconds had passed, he was actively screaming into said pillow. The sound of it was muffled enough that no one was going to be calling the police, but loud enough to be somewhat satisfying. Man, fuck moaning. Why moan when you can just yell into the void. He got out three bursts of vocal chord abuse, before a certain pair of yellow and white assholes decided to pipe up.

 

{Oh hey! We're on the couch, you know what time it is?}

 

[I'm going with therapy time!]

 

{You betcha! Whitey, my man, why don't you start with the attempt to uncover and heal years of psychological scars!}

 

[It would be my pleasure! So, Wade, darling dearest, how are you feeling right now? And remember, this is for posterity, so be honest.]

 

_Oh fuck off._

 

[Gonna have to kill yourself for that to happen, and you literally _just_ cleaned the cushions. AAAAANNNDDDD you've barely let us have _any_ fun with this new development of yours, so I gotta ask, what's it like to have fallen for the best person you know while being, just, you know, the _worst?_ ]

 

_Pete's the best person I know? Really? We know Aunt May and I'm pretty sure she's the superior Parker._

 

{Fair, fair. Second best then.}

 

_Did y'all forget Preston? She might be an actual for realsies angel._

 

{Ugh. Fine. _One_ of the best people we know. Happy?}

 

[Still _vastly_ better than us.]

 

{Ain't that the truth?}

 

[So, Yellow, upon knowing and befriending a heroic, _mostly likely straight,_ and just generally unavailable person, how about you take the “The worst decision ever” for 100]

 

{What is “falling in love”, Whitey?}

 

[You are correct! 100 points to Gryffindor!]

 

_That's not even how Jeopardy works, assholes._

 

[You're right. Enough games, we really should be keeping the focus on how much of a goddamn dumbass you are. Getting a lobotomy would probably _increase_ your IQ.]

 

{You're so stupid that _you_ should be called a Mindless One!}

 

[You're more idiotic than the entire conception of Stilt Man.]

 

{You're such a fool that even The Jester is embarrassed.}

 

[ _Oooooooohhhhhh! Savage,_ Yellow.]

 

_**Why** must you two be this way?_

 

{To fuel your charming personality, of course!}

 

[Also, dude, _we're auditory hallucinations,_ what did you expect? Maybe if you actually took your anti-psychotics for once in your goddamn life..oh, wait! They don't fucking work! Because of your “superpowers”! Man, you're a fucking _catch,_ how could Peter possibly not reciprocate! It's not like you spent the past several years being everything that he finds morally reprehensible or anything. That'd be really rough if it were true.]

 

Wade shifted his head so that his chin was resting on the pillow in order to properly glare at the wall because he couldn't actually glare at voices in his head. Then he stood up with a groan as he made the resolute decision to _fucking talk to Preston,_ because it's not like his own psyche was going to be particularly helpful in this situation.

 

First a snack.

 

_No goddammit. First Preston._

 

 _Fine_ , first Preston. There was probably a proper way to contact her that involved being very civil and bothering to knock on her door and expressing his intentions with words or something. Instead, he called her from his new location at the kitchen table and said, “Ehhhhhhhhhhhh,” as soon as she had picked up.

 

Her voice was flat and he could borderline _hear_ the eyeroll as she responded, “Wade.”

 

“Mmmmmmmmmm.”

 

“Whining isn't a proper method of communication. Use your big boy words.”

 

“Don't wanna.”

 

“Do you need me to come over?”

 

“.....Mmmhmm. Door will be unlocked, feel free to let yourself in.”

 

Preston came over about 2 minutes later. Dang, her turnaround was spot on. She entered to find Wade face down and moaning while a cup of coffee congealed next to him. This was odd, even for him. Usually his breakdowns either involved a fetal position or a lot more bloodshed.

 

It was a little amusing, if she was being terribly honest. Mostly sad, but, you know. Not exactly the image of crazed killer right here. She gave one of those smiles that was attempting to look like it was neither pitying nor holding back laughter, and failing at both. “Oh sweetheart, what happened?”

 

Wade lolled his head so that he could stare at her, and, damn, he was giving her puppy dog eyes. This was a new development and now she _was_ fully concerned. Combined with his relative silence, this was a really, _really_ bad sign.

 

When he didn't bother to answer her, she strolled on over to the chair opposite him, sat down, and gave him a light kick and glare. This got her bigger puppy eyes that would've made her feel bad if she weren't immune to wide eyed sadness. Thankfully, that small kicked dog look left as soon as she asked, “Is this about Ellie?”

 

He perked up a little at the mention of his daughter, which told her a) this was not about Ellie and b) Jesus H. Christ could he be anymore of a _dad_? Good for 'im. He sat up and gave a watery smile, tone falsely cheerful as he replied, “Nah, Ellie's doin' great. Still strugglin' with fractions, but that's not a huge deal. Jeremy hasn't bothered he since the incident, which she's a lil' smug about, even though she doesn't admit it. Should probably try to train the violent streak out of her, but I'm not super certain of how successful we're gonna be considering her combined nature and nurture. Maybe redirect it into art or somethin', I dunno.”

 

Rambling again. Not surprising, extremely relieving. Preston briefly tried to decide between going tough love or super soft, and because she was such a _mom,_ soft won out. “Wade, what's going on? Besides the usual, I mean. You know you can talk to me, I've _literally_ been inside of your head before.”

 

Wade gave her a humorless huff and the smile seemed even more false than before as he said, “And yet you're still here. What the hell, Pres, most people start running at a _glimpse_ of my personality, let alone seeing all the weird repressed shit. Which, o _h god I just_ _realized_ _that you know all of my kinks and I am so sorry.”_

 

“Wade?”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“Your kinks are vanilla as fuck.”

 

Wade's jaw dropped as he gasped and placed a hand on his chest, clearly taken aback as he replied, “Preston! I think I'm offended! Wait, should I be offended or relieved?”

 

“You _should_ be getting to the goddamn point.”

 

Wade pouted at her because he was a _child,_ then sighed, put his head back on the table (could they be making any _less_ progress?) and told her in a muffled voice, “You know how I have a thing for a spandex wearing webslinger?”

 

Preston didn't bother to suppress her eyeroll as she replied, “No. Haven't noticed. Subtlety is absolutely your specialty. I haven't had to listen to entire spoken epics about the curvatures of Spider-man's ass or anything _completely ridiculous_ like that, not ever.”

 

“You wound me, Pres.”

 

“No I don't. You thrive off sarcasm. Anyway, what about about Spider-man?”

 

“...I fell for the guy behind the mask.”

 

“You didn't.”

 

Preston could see the cringe as he replied, “I did.”

 

“How bad you got it?”

 

“Is 'real bad' specific enough?”

 

“Nope.”

 

Wade gave a shrug from the table and took a few seconds to think before saying, “It's passed drawing hearts in my notebook around the name 'Mr. Wade Parker', which, thank god, that was a terrible name, completely ruins the alliterative thing, and gone on to actual emotional investment and potential fall out.”

 

Preston barely even hesitated to translate. “You're in love with him.”

 

“Yeah.”

 

Ever the epitome of helpfulness and sympathy, Preston responded, “Shit.”

 

“ _Yeah.”_

 

“Well, I mean, that's not a total disaster. It's not like you've never been in love before.”

 

Wade went from lying his face on the table to only resting his chin on the table, mostly so that he could look at her with a flat expression. “Golly gee Pres, because that's worked out _so well_ in the past. I just _adore_ it when someone either ends up leaving or dead.”

 

Voice suddenly smaller, Wade ended with, “I don't want Peter to leave or die,” and Preston immediately felt a familiar wave of protectiveness. When the hell had Wade become her ward, anyway? She kind of wanted to just get up and hug him, but he was still kind of weird about physical contact, and she knew it would be more for her benefit than his. Instead, she offered what she usually could provide: honesty.

“I know sweetheart. Love is rough, but the way I see it, you have three options: talk to Peter about your feelings, pine hopelessly for the next couple of decades or so, or pick yourself up and move on.”

 

“I'll take door number two.”

 

“That is the worst door. That is an incredibly shitty door. No. I lied. It's not an option. 1 or 3, you decide.”

 

“I haven't figured out how to do option three. Hell, I'm pretty sure I'm still low-key not entirely over Nate.”

 

“Option one it is.”

 

The face was back on the table when he whined, “Prrrreeesssttooooonnnnnn.”

 

Preston let out a huff before saying, “ _Fine._ I'll give you a temporary cop out. Talk to Ellie first, then you can make your decision.”

 

Wade had apparently had enough of being face-planted, and gave a dramatic “ugh” as he brought himself up and started rummaging around the kitchen. He looked around for mugs despite the fact that there was coffee already on the table (cold coffee though. Gross.), and pointedly did not make eye contact with Preston as he asked, “Why do I need to talk to Ellie?”

 

He decided that he was looking for a mug because he felt like tea and he didn't feel like cleaning dishes. When Preston replied, “You know why. At least, I hope you do,” he decided that he wasn't going to offer any sort of hot beverage, because she was suggesting he be a rational human adult about this whole situation, and he _hated_ when she suggested that. Which was surprisingly often, probably because she believed in him or some crap like that. Having a good family was _exhausting_.

 

As the water was warming up in the electric kettle, he placed his hands on the counter and glared at the cupboards as he asked her, “Must you be right about everything except for your TV show taste?”

 

It was Preston's turn to be mock-offended as she said, “ _Excuse_ me? My TV show taste is impeccable.”

 

“You don't like _The Golden Girls._ Who the _fuck_ doesn't like _The Golden Girls?”_

 

“Wade, it's not _that_ good of a show.”

 

“ _How dare you disrespect Bea Arthur's memory in this manner.”_

 

“Oh please. Betty White was the star of the show and we all know it.”

 

Wade actually leaned backed in horror. The betrayal, the absolute blasphemy that was exiting Preston's mouth, it _wounded_ him. He was a kinda sorta almost good person, he didn't deserve this. He deserved a lot of bad shit in life, but not _this._ Never this, not from one of the few people he had _trusted._

 

“You come into _my house_ and you insult the _love of my life,_ the _fire in my soul,_ the _true light in this dark, dark world,_ and well, I won't stand for it. Either you sit your ass down to watch all 180 episodes right here right now or we negotiate custody rights because I will let no child of mine be raised by a _heathen._ See, I can make ultimatums too, Pres. _"_

 

“Okay, first off, I signed over custody rights to you several months ago, so that doesn't even make for a legitimate threat, secondly, I'm busy. I don't have time for countless hours of _The Golden Girls._ ”

 

Wade folded his arms to try and look authoritative, which was _adorable,_ honestly. She could kick his ass six ways to Sunday even before she got the super rad robot body. She's a _very_ good S.H.E.I.L.D agent.

 

“I call bullshit. If you were busy, why would you be over here instead of doing important Preston stuff, huh? Check and mate.”

 

“Wade I'm over because you were distressed and you asked me to come over. Showing up is the normal response for a friendship.”

 

“Preston, I want to make this very clear. _I have no fucking clue what normal friendships_ _consist of._ I fear you've confused me with someone who's had their life together at some point in the last three decades. Also, be honest, were you actually doing anything before I called?”

 

Preston gave a sideways glance before letting out a sigh and saying, “Admittedly, I was not.”

 

Preston could see Wade's eyes light up, which was always a concerning sign. “So _Golden Girls_ it is!”

 

“Or we could talk more about the issue at hand, because you haven't actually resolved to talk to Ellie _or_ Peter.”

 

Wade's smile and cheerfulness became a bit more strained as he repeated, “So _Golden Girls_ it is!” and made a bee-line for the DVD player. Why would she think that he would be sensible about this? Why did she think that she could get out of a _Golden Girls_ marathon? Because she had been a fool, that's why. She mentally resigned to spending the next several hours on the couch watching the wacky antics of four older ladies, but she wouldn't do it without _some_ sort of incentive. She called out, “I'm ordering Thai food! And I'm using your credit card!”

 

She got an excited, “Fuck yeah! I love Thai!” so she went ahead and ordered extra spring rolls for herself, knowing Wade wouldn't mind. Besides, she deserved it for the countless instances of laugh tracks that she would have to endure for the rest of the day. She pulled out her phone and made the order, before getting into a comfortable position on the couch and settling in for the long haul.

 

2 hours in and Preston was _so fucking tired_ of hearing the phrase “Thank you for being a friend.”

 

4 hours in and she begrudgingly decided that, dammit, she was enjoying the show.

 

6 hours in and Wade had maneuvered himself in a manner than let him fall asleep on her shoulder. He was drooling a little, which probably would've been gross if a) it wasn't something she was sadly accustomed to and b) it weren't incredibly endearing. She hadn't meant to take Wade under her wing, but what could she say, family was family, even if the circumstances of gaining said family were more than a little odd.

 

8 hours in and she had accepted Bea Arthur as her new god. Wade was still asleep, and appeared to be more at ease than he had the entire time she was inside his mind. It was adorable, and she deeply regretted not having a device that could capture the moment on her person, unless the robot body came with image capturing technology, which, shit, did it? She probably should've gone through the Life Model Decoy manual a bit more throughly, but she was a busy woman, dammit. Besides, “borderline indestructible and easy to manage” were all she really needed to know about it.

 

8 hours and 10 minutes in, and Ellie happily barged through the door. Wade woke up immediately and faced his daughter with a dopey half-awake smile as he said, “Hey, kiddo. Did you have fun with Evan and Micheal?”

 

Ellie kicked off her light up sneakers and ran over to settle between Wade and Preston, cheerfully replying, “Hell yeah! I thought Micheal was a little weird at first but he's promised to teach me black magic so I'm pretty pumped for that! And Evan is _super_ cool, we played video games for like 4 hours, and 9 times out of 10 _I kicked his ass._ It was a very rewarding experience. Speaking of Evan, why doesn't he live with us? It's not like we don't have like three extra bedrooms even with Peter hanging around.”

 

Wade blinked rapidly at her a few times, because, come on, he just woke up. He didn't particularly want to go into the details of Evan's whole story and the potential child murder thing, so he very intelligently replied, “Uhhhhhh...his skin clashes with the paint?”

 

Even _Preston_ was giving him a look for that one. Ellie was still looking at him expectantly, but his brain hadn't fully booted back up, so he really didn't know how to tell her the full thing. He climbed off of Preston's shoulder and sat upright, trying to clear some of the cobwebs from actually, holy shit, _sleeping solidly_. He hadn't done that in years.

 

His mental processing finally came back online, but he still couldn't think of a good way to break down the Evan situation to Ellie. Preston was giving him a flat look that indicated he was on his own with this one. He opened his mouth, closed it, and then had a revelation. This was Ellie. Kid had seen some shit and had (somewhat involuntarily) come out of it a more mature person. This was nothing she couldn't handle.

 

“So you know how we're not currently in hiding even though that'd probably be the best course of action?”

 

Ellie gave a grunt of acknowledgment, which he took as a good sign to continue.

 

“Evan is. Can't really have him staying in a safe house that isn't really all that safe.”

 

“Why is he in hiding? I mean I _get_ why Micheal wouldn't wanna be super public after the whole zombie presidents thing, but Evan is just a kid like me, right?”

 

Wade gave her a wiggly hand gesture as he elaborated, “Ehh, he _might_ grow up to try and murder a bunch of people and/or destroy the world. He sorta tried to already, but, hell, that was during my pacifist phase. It was a weird time for everyone, so I don't hold that against him. Besides, he's a super sweet kid and in fact seems rather intent on _not_ becoming a murderous asshole, I'm at least 85% sure things will work out as long as he can avoid the people who won't even give him the chance to grow up.”

 

“Oh. But, like, I'm pretty sure _I'm_ more likely to go murder crazy than Evan. He's way too nice for that. Why do people suspect him in the first place?”

 

Wade gave an exaggerated shrug because he knew exactly why, but explaining it was gonna be weird. “He's technically a clone of a nearly immortal godlike creature that tried to just, you know, fuck up everything for everyone, but what's genetics anyway?”

 

Ellie stared at him for a few moments, and he wondered if he had made an error of judgment (which, wow, wouldn't that be a _shocker)._ She opened and shut her mouth a couple times before finally settling on, “My life's gotten a lot weirder since you got here.”

 

“That's fair. Good weird or bad weird?”

 

“I'm gonna go with indifferent weird.”

 

“I can live with indifferent weird.”

 

During the lapse in the conversation, Emily stood up and stretched, which caused both Ellie and Wade to fall over and make whining noises at her. Her response was a highly sympathetic eye roll preluding finger pointing at Wade and sternly said, “Talk to your daughter”, before heading to her own home. Wade's whining noises grew louder while Ellie's own silenced. The lack of context was freaking Ellie out, and she sat up and tried to give her dad a stern look despite the fact that he was still face down in the couch.

 

She tried to ask, “Alright, so who's dying?” in a light tone, but it came out more fearful and strained than she had intended because _holy shit is someone dying?_ Or did he somehow know about that fractions quiz she failed? No, there was no way, she had disposed of the evidence so throughly and the dreaded parent-teacher conference wasn't for another month, he can't know. So someone _was_ dying.

 

Shit.

 

“Is it Bob? I hope not, I like Bob.”

 

Her dad finally stopped emitting a high pitched noise into the couch and pushed himself up into a relatively upright position so that he could aim his befuddlement at her.

 

“What? No, no one that we know is dying. Especially not Bob. Well, not last time I checked, but I admit I don't check that frequently.”

 

Wade stopped speaking to her at that moment, muttering under his breath and completely absent from the conversation, so she gave him a solid kick to bring him back. If it weren't for the healing factor, there'd probably be a decent amount of bruises from this routine. He jolted slightly and focused back in on her, picking back up where he was.

 

“Why do you think someone's dying?”

 

Ellie nodded towards the door as she replied, “Because Emily used her scary mom voice when she said 'talk to your daughter' and that usually means a no good, horrible, very bad thing has occurred.”

 

Wade gave a shrug. “I mean, from _my_ perspective, a no good, horrible, very bad thing _has_ occurred, but it's more subjectively terrible than objectively life-destroying. Preston just thinks I should “talk about my feelings” and “discuss things with my daughter that could _potentially_ affect her life” or some such nonsense.”

 

“Oh. So Emily was being lame.”

 

“ _Exactly.”_

 

Ellie squinted at him and tried to read him, and for some reason, being under the scrutiny of your own flesh and blood was 1000% worse than any other intimidation tactic he had encountered, and he'd faced _legit_ torture. He feared the worst for when she spoke.

 

“So there's gossip that you're carefully avoiding telling me.”

 

His fear was confirmed. _Play it cool Wilson._

 

[Yes, because that _is_ our specialty.]

 

{Wait! Talk your way out of it! Go go go!!!}

 

“No? No. Nope, no gossip here, I have no drama. I'm not avoiding telling you anything, because Preston's just a filthy liar. S.H.E.I.L.D agents man, sketchy as hell.”

 

[You're an embarrassment.]

 

 _I'm well aware of this. Hence the whole_ _actual mask to mask my feelings thing._

 

{Wait. Confused. I thought the mask was because you're butt fuck ugly.}

 

 _Well, yeah. That too. You don't see_ me _getting voted sexiest dad alive._

 

Anyway. Topic at hand: Preston isn't a filthy liar. Ellie knows this. Wade is usually a filthy liar. Ellie also knows this. So it was hardly a surprise when Ellie didn't take his words at face value, especially since it was such a _carefully constructed_ and _utterly convincing_ lie. Ellie looked directly at him with a concern that didn't seem right on a ten year old's face, before attempting to cheerfully ask, “Would it help if we were painting nails? I wanna try out the black sparkly galaxy one on you.”

 

Wade nodded at her in what he would ascertain as only a slightly pathetic nod, while she would claim is was “kicked puppy” levels of pathetic. She headed of to gather her many, many supplies and he used the minute she was away to try and think about what the fuck he was actually going to say to her. His brilliant mind came up with a bunch of things that he had heard 80's sitcom dads say, before just throwing its metaphorical hands in the air and suggesting panic and run away. Ellie came back with her arms full of her spa supplies, and his plan so far was to just start talking and hope for the best. This was a pretty standard plan for him.

 

“So what colors are you gonna go for, honey bun?”

 

Ellie scrunched her face at him as she asked, “Honey bun?”

Wade shrugged as he told her, “Figured I try it out. You feelin' pastels, sparkles, or metallic?”

 

“I'll do yours first and then decide. So what do you need to tell me?”

 

Damn her. The nail painting was an effective strategy in making sure he _couldn't_ run. He had fallen right into her trap. Perhaps her could pout his way out of it.

 

“Don't wanna.”

 

She gave him an admonishing “ _Dad,”_ which held more authority in it than usual, clearly Preston was teaching her.

 

He sighed, rolled his eyes, crossed his legs, and propped his head up with the hand that wasn't currently being painted. “Ugh. _Fine._ You ever had a crush Ellie-belly?”

 

Ellie's hand stilled, nail polish dripping onto the couch (whatever. It was black to hide blood stains initially, all that would show was the glitter.) before looking directly at him with wide-eyes and blurting out, “O god this isn't The Talk, is it?,” before softly muttering “I'm too young to die.”

 

Wade's expression matched her own as he sputtered out, “Wha-?! No, fuck, I'm gonna make Preston do that, when you're _way older._ Shit man, you really think I'd spring that on you?”

 

Tension instantly poured from Ellie's body as she let out an exaggerated, “Phew,” returning to her task at hand.

 

“I'm gonna add little stars with the white nail pen after this dries, so don't mess this up, 'k Dad? Also, no, I don't have crushes, because I'm not weak. Why do you ask?”

 

“Because your dad is, in fact, weak.”

 

“Oooooohhhhh. This is about Pete.”

 

How the fuck? No, seriously, _how the fuck?_ Two options: denial or over the top acceptance. He didn't have a good enough (read: any) lie planned for denial, so over the top acceptance it was. He gave her double pistols and a wink. If her glare and melodramatic frown were any indication, this was the wrong course of action. His heart rate ratcheted up when he thought she was pissed about Peter, but his stupid fears were immediately shut down when she said, “Dammit Dad, those nails were almost dry, but you had to fuck them up for finger guns. Now we gotta do the ring finger _all over._ ”

 

“Do you have the good sense to keep that cursing to a minimum around your teachers?”

 

“Dad, my classmates have called me many things, but sensible isn't one of them.”

 

Trying to take on a stern fatherly tone, he tilted his head, pursed his lips, and placed his free hand on his hip. “Eleanor. How many times have been written up?”

 

She beamed her biggest 'look how adorable I am' grin at him and proudly declared, “You mean detention? They gave up after 31 instances.”

 

The fatherly tone instantly dropped as he laughed and high-fived her. “That's my girl! The Wilson legacy of being an elementary school terror is secure!”

 

Her grin settled down to a prideful smirk before resting at an inquisitive, if slightly accusatory smile as she said, “Dad.”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“You're stalling.”

 

“Absolutely.”

 

Ellie paused for a minute, before perking up and asking, “What if we make it a game of truth or dare? Except it's truth or truth, and it's always my turn to ask and you always have to answer.”

 

She was trying to make this easy for him. How messed up was that, he was supposed to make things easier for _her._ That was kind of the whole point of a dad. But on the other hand, _how fucking awesome was his kid?_

 

“Sounds like a plan.”

 

She finished the retouched the ring finger with a flourish of her nail pen before moving on to his other hand and saying, “Okie doke. Truth or truth?”

 

“Truth.”

 

“What's going on with Peter?”

 

“I don't know and I'd like to make an addendum to this game. Yes or no questions only.”

 

“I can work with that. Truth or truth?”

 

“Truth?”

 

“Do you like the nails?”

 

“I love them. Duh.”

 

Ellie smirked at that one, telling him, “That was just to make sure you were playing the game correctly. Like a baseline for a lie-detector test!”

 

“How do you know these things?”

 

Putting on a 'gruff' voice, she scowled at him and said, “I'm the one asking the questions here, bub,” before losing her straight face and giggling to herself.

 

Wade snorted because _bub,_ had she been talking to Logan or something. “All right, bad cop, hit me with your best interrogation.”

 

“Do you have a crush on Peter?”

 

Crush isn't _really_ how he would describe it (he had a crush on Bernadette Peters. What was going on with Peter was _significantly_ worse.), but “Yes.”

 

“Do you think you're in love with him?”

 

 _Sigh._ “Yes.”

 

Ellie's eyes lit up with glee, nail painting forgotten as she threw up her arms and elatedly squealed. “Ohmigosh, you _have_ to let me help you tell him! It's gotta be big and grand and super romantic. We gotta Disney the _shit_ out of it, Daddy!”

 

She looked thoughtfully off to side, stroking her chin and sagely stating, “This is going to require many ribbons.”

 

“El.”

 

“Of course a professional choir is a must. And a flash mob! Yessss.”

 

“Ellie.”

 

“Where do we even _find_ thousands of butterflies at this time of year?”

 

Wade placed the dry hand on her shoulder, inciting her to look at him. As soon as she saw the look on his face, her glorious plans were scrapped.

 

“Sweetheart, I'm not telling him.”

 

Her eyes and tone went flat. “That's dumb.”

 

Wade gave a slightly broken chuckle and a devil may care shrug and hope Ellie couldn't hear the crack in his voice when he said, “Well, no one's accused me of being intelligent.”

 

“You speak, like, eight languages and you're a consultant for S.H.E.I.L.D because I'm pretty sure you know _literally everything_ about weapons. You're not dumb, Dad. So don't be dumb now.”

 

“It's not...it's just...look, keeping my mouth shut for once in my life is for the best.”

 

Ellie's entire demeanor hardened, and she suddenly looked much older and much more intimidating than someone who is four and a half feet tall and wearing a gold star sticker had any right to be. Maybe they should let her (eventually) into the superhero business after all, that stare-down would stop bad guys in their tracks.

 

“For the best? You mean like not letting me know you existed for the majority of my life was 'for the best'? How, once I met you, barely talking to me was 'for the best'?! Like putting me in a safehouse and then _leaving_ for a year was ' _for the best'_?!?! God, Dad, did you even think raising me was a good idea? Was actually letting me see you 'for the best'?”

 

He could meet her eyes. He couldn't meet eyes with a ten year old. So instead he focused intently on the swirling patterns she had drawn on his nails as he admitted, “No. I didn't...I didn't think it was for the best. I wanted to raise you for entirely selfish reasons.”

 

“Yeah. So selfish, it's _so_ awful having my dad back.”

 

“It probably would've been better if I hadn't.”

 

Her nostrils flared even as she was forcefully holding back tears. “Because that way I would know that one parent was dead and the other didn't want me to be their daughter.”

 

“That's not-”

 

“THAT'S WHAT IT FELT LIKE! That's...that's what it felt like when Abuela used to talk about you when she thought I couldn't hear her. When she used to say things like the first time you saw me you pushed me out of your arms and said that I couldn't be yours. That's what it felt like when I asked Joshua about you and he would speak in vague notions of you having made your choices, and that _I wasn't your choice._ That's what it felt like when I finally, _finally_ met you, and you didn't even tell me your real name or show me your face before you ran off. That's what it felt like when you seemed like you finally wanted me around and then left _again,_ like you had figured to give fatherhood a chance but ultimately decided _you didn't want it._ So maybe, _Dad,_ your selfish is a lot less stupid than your 'for the best'.”

 

[Wow. Bet you feel like a complete and utter asshole right now.]

 

{You fucked up. You fucked up _real bad._ }

 

He didn't know what to say. He hadn't meant...it wasn't supposed to.... _fuck._ He pulled her into a hug and squeezed her as tight as he could without hurting her. He waited until her breathing slowed down and some of the anger and hurt had faded out before relinquishing his grip and softly telling her, “I'm so sorry, Ellie. You're my favorite person, the best thing in my life, and I really love being a dad, and I _especially_ love being your dad.”

 

She gave a huff of laughter that didn't really fit with her deflated manner, telling him, “Yeah, I know that _now.”_

 

“I should've...I should've tried to be your dad ten years ago. I'm sorry that twenty year old me didn't do that, but man, if I ever get a do-over, let me tell ya, your Abuela will have to barely conceal her hatred of me for an extra _decade._ ”

 

That dragged a real smile out of her as she held up her little finger and asked, “Pinky promise?”

 

He hooked his little finger on hers and said, “ _Painted_ pinky promise. It's extra binding.”

 

She seemed satisfied with this response and went back to her previous position of working on his left hand's polish, concentrating for a few moments before blurting out, “So when ya gonna tell Petey that you wanna be sittin' in a tree k-i-s-s-i-n-g?”

 

“Yeah, that's still not happening.”

 

Ellie held both of her hands out and just had to ask, “What the hell, Dad?”

 

“It's complicated.”

 

“It's complicated is adult speak for 'I think you're too stupid to understand it' or 'I'm going to do something stupid and I don't feel the need to justify it to you'. My bet is on the later, and I'm gonna be pissed if it's the former.”

 

“Why do you even want me to tell him? Why does everyone insist that I tell him? If I don't tell him, nothing changes, and if I do, so very many things could go horrifically and catastrophically wrong. Seems like talking about _literally anything else_ with Pete would be the best way to go.”

 

“I want you to tell him because you're mopey and sad a lot and I think that telling Pete would make you less mopey and sad.”

 

“Mopey and sad a lot? What are you talking about, this is the happiest year I've had in like, my entire lifetime.”

 

“That's kinda heartbreaking, Dad.”

 

“Pfft. Whatever. I am an _endless_ source of cheerfulness and mirth! That's one of the major parts of my charm.”

 

“Sure, Dad. Because you've never been up at 3 am staring off into space.”

 

{Damn, I thought we were better at hiding the shitty parts of our personality than that.}

 

[All of our personality is shitty parts, we can't hide _everything._ ]

 

“Well, Elliephant, I kind of doubt running directly into Petey's probably not so open arms isn't gonna do a whole lot for the insomnia.”

 

“I still think that you should tell him.”

 

“I still think that's a terrible idea for various reasons.”

 

“Such as?”

 

“Do you really wanna open those floodgates?”

 

“Lay it on me. You can do my nails in the bright blue metallics while you talk.”

 

_Eh, she already knows about the whole “former mercenary thing”, and we ain't gonna discuss Weapon X, she can afford to hear some more back story. Fuck it._

 

“Well, Ellie, it was a magical time known as 'the 90's'..”

 

He was interrupted by a knock at the door. Ellie and Wade both swiveled their heads towards it, before Wade glared at..the wall? Wait, shit, the fourth wall, for the love of god,

 

**No.**

 

No what?

 

 **No to this overused cliché trope** _**bullshit** _ **I swear to Christ if Peter Goddamn Benjamin Motherfucking Parker is behind that wretched door I'm gonna lose my shit man.**

 

Say hello to the love of your life, asshole.

 

 **Mother. Fucker. What the hell does he want? What kind fuckin' plot device horsecrap are you going to pull. I don't deserve this kind of writing, I lived through the nineties, I had** _**all of the pouches,** _ **I survived** _**X-men Orgins: Wolverine** _ **and I HAVE SERVED MY TIME. Make it literally anyone else than Peter, I beg of you, anybody but the goddamn** _**exact person we were discussing three seconds ago because fuck could you be more tacky?????** _

 

*double pistols and a wink*

 

**I want the record to show that _I fucking hate you._ **

 

Duly noted. Have fun in the narrative.

 

**Get bent.**

 

Wade turned back to the door, still glaring daggers as he muttered, “What the shit, Parker?” despite fully knowing that Peter usually visited at odd hours for no real reason other than to stop by. This better not be one of those times. Ellie took the brush from him and started to work on the rest of her left hand on her own as he went to open the door.

 

As soon as he saw the sorry site in front of him, he could tell it was not one of those times. Pete looked wiped out, the bags under his eyes and slump in his shoulders significantly worse than the simple exhaustion that comes with being a grad student/scientist/superhero. Plus, the whole thing where he was carrying two duffel bags and a backpack was pretty indicative that something was up.

 

The poor spider let out an extended sigh and a broken smile as he looked at Wade and gave him a super explanatory, “Hey.”

 

“Dude, you look like you went twelve rounds with existential despair and lost. What the hap is fuckening, my home skillet?”

 

Peter rolled his eyes, but the smile on his face became a bit more solid and some of the weariness of his posture seemed to lift, so Wade was calling a win.

 

“I was kind of...wondering if I could, uh, sort of, perhaps-”

 

“Wow Parker, your eloquence and lack of beating around the bush knows no limits.”

 

“Fuck off, Wilson.”

“It's my house, my guy, or was that a come on, 'cause you know I'm down, but I'd have to get Ellie a sitter and the closest pay-by-the-hour motel is like thirty minutes away by a probably stolen car, so could we maybe give that ass tapping a raincheck til like next Saturday?”

 

Instead of the expected slap or sneer, Peter blurted out, “Can I move in?”

 

Since those combination of words in that particular order made no sense, Wade brilliantly replied, “Huh?”

 

Peter ran his hand through his hair before running it down his face, because one indicator of stress was not sufficient for his situation, and started over.

 

“My apartment has bedbugs. The exterminator won't be there for a few more days, and then it'll take a few more days for the fumes to die down to non-awful levels. I was wondering if I could crash here for about a week or so?”

 

[Absolutely not.]

 

{Bad idea alert!}

 

“Of course. Duh, obviously, but, like, why didn't you just stay with your beautiful and perfect Aunt who was significantly closer and easier to ask?”

 

Peter's eyes widened and blinked rapidly in succession as he replied, “I didn't think of that. You were the first person that came to mind.”

 

[{ _Oh._ }]

 

[Holy shit.]

 

{Does he???? Does he actually _like_ us? Did he just pick us as his first choice to live with? Is this real? Are we dreaming? We're definitely dreaming, right?}

 

_Guys, chill, this is just...we're richish. And bed-bug free. And make damn fine casseroles. Living with us for a week is just..the logical choice. Yeeaahhh. Also, it is only for a week, don't be weird about this. _

 

[Weird about it? Why would we be weird about it? Besides, you know, the whole being love with him thing is hardly going to be helped by being around him during literally all of your free time. It's not like your heart is already do weird things right now just because he's here and he thought of you, because if it were...]

 

{♪There's a moment you know _you're fucked_.♪}

 

“Oh. Okay. Cool.”

 

Peter seemed surprised at this development himself, though both the initial exhaustion and the recent shock had turned into a blank expression, and a very illuminating, “Yeah.”

 

Ah, fuck it, if this was going to go down in flames, might as well light the match. Wade threw him a smirk and an exaggeratedly lecherous once over as he said, “Well, sweet cheeks, and I hope you know which cheeks I'm referring to, if you want that spectacular ass of yours to stay here, I expect full repayment in the form of various and increasingly debauched sexual favors.”

 

Peter gave a rather unflattering snort and eye-roll, looking visibly lighter when he told Wade, “Oh, of course,” before tossing the duffel bags into Wade's arms and cheerfully muttering 'asshole' as he strutted on in. Wade pretended to be upset as he kicked the door closed and sort of just dropped the duffel bags in the entrance way. “Oh, _please,_ don't hesitate to make yourself at home.”

 

Peter turned back to him, shot up a peace sign, and replied, “Welp, I'm taking the guest bedroom, where I'm going to sleep for twelve hours. Night everybody!”

 

Peter was kind of an asshole once he felt welcome.

 

As he headed off, Ellie turned back to Wade with a questioning expression, to which he shrugged and said, “His apartment's got bed bugs. He's on our turf for about a week.”

 

“Why didn't he just stay with May? She's, like, way cooler than you.

 

Wade held up his hands. “Great minds think alike. Apparently Peter is not in the category of great minds.”

 

Ellie scrunched up her eyebrows, scrutinizing him before she said, “Hey Dad? Emily is encouraging me to tell you when I think something's a bad idea.”

 

“...Okay.”

 

“I think this is a bad idea.”

 

Wade gave a shrug, because she wasn't wrong, and he had no justification for his actions. “Ellie, barring you, my life is an endless series of bad decisions and not learning from my mistakes. Whats one more?”

 

“So you gonna take this unique opportunity to tell him your mushy feelings?”

 

Wade eye's went wide and he made a quick slicing motion across his throat with his hand. “Dude, be cool, he's literally in the next room, and neither of us are known for being quiet. And to answer the question, nah. Nope. Never. Imma bottle that shit up like a pro.”

 

“Still dumb.”

 

“Still reality.”

 

Ellie tried to give him a blank stare, but it was somewhat undercut by her eyelids drooping as she fought off the sudden sleepiness of a long day. She pointed sternly at him and mumbled out, “You owe me _so_ many Nerf guns,” before stumbling off to bed, leaving Wade to his thoughts, which, yikes.

 

Letting Pete live with them for awhile was the correct choice in the sense that saying 'you can't stay here because personal reasons' would have been a dick move. For his own emotional wellbeing, however, he was so beyond fucked.

 

Like he had ever given a shit about his own emotional wellbeing.

 


	14. Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Team-up time!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *rises from my grave to post a new chapter*

Okay, so, when Peter had first shown up, he had; come back from a three day mission that mostly consisted of him getting his ass kicked, gotten chewed out by the head of his lab because of something arbitrary, forgot to do a thesis check in, and to top it off, came home to a shitty rent stabilized apartment that had _fucking bedbugs._ Ergo, he was way too spent to consider the implications of both living with Wade and Ellie and _wanting_ to live with Wade and Ellie. When both Wade and Ellie had pointed out that it would have significantly easier to just haul up with Aunt May, he was so worn to the bone that just did not bother to think about it too much. 

It wasn't until the morning after that he was awake enough to think about it. What he did think about it, however, could be summed up as “Wait, who's place did I crash at last night again?,” before smelling waffles and promptly forgetting about it once again.

That afternoon, he didn't think much of it either. He was busy reading 1920's science fiction upside down on the couch. 

He didn't ponder it that night, either. A _Harry Potter_ marathon was on, and _apparently_ Ellie hadn't even seen the movies past the first three, so obviously they had to watch them all. 

At 3 am, when he should have been lying awake pouring over his life choices or patrolling, he was laughing about nothing with Wade due to the comedic tour de force that was sleep deprivation. 

In fact, in between work, school, heroism, and just kind of hanging out, it was four days into his stay that he actually had the alone time and energy to bother to process his decision. And ho boy, process it he did. Assuming, of course, process actually meant mildly freak out about, because he had fallen into rhythm here at an alarmingly quick rate, and he literally didn't even sort of consider asking to stay anywhere else, and he had been drawn to this house while barely even conscious, all of which was pointing to a rather concerning conclusion. 

His brain-dead self had decided this place was where he belonged. If Peter _really_ wanted to freak himself out he would even maybe potentially possibly sort of kind of maybe a lot call this house and this family home. But he wasn't going to. Because if he did, then he would be having a minor internal and maybe external melt down, because _what the hell when did that happen,_ but all that nonsense could wait for another couple of days when he was back in his own apartment. Actually, it was imperative that he didn't think about it too hard until he was back in his own apartment. There he could obviously have a more objective perspective on the whole thing. 

Plus, _plus,_ maybe it had just been convenience. Yes, Aunt May's was closer, and she would've agreed, but she wasn't exactly sitting in the lap of luxury. Coming to Wade's wouldn't put a dent in the guy's finances, and he had a real guest bedroom, _a_ _nd_ all the homemade food wasn't something to sneeze at. See, no need to panic, it was just easier to come here. Definitely none of that mushy “this place is your real home” crap that was making his stomach twist into knots. Nah. No way. Of course, the big dopey grin and the weird soaring feeling in his chest when Ellie and Wade came home, loud and tossing their belongings haphazardly and arguing over how young the “Young Avengers” really were told him that he was full of shit. And so, so screwed. He either had three days to figure out how to make himself hate it here or had three days to try and figure out how he could say that he kind of...wanted to stay here?

Like, actually move in? Would that be super weird? 

Yeah, it would be super weird. 

No, wait, friends room with friends all the time. Totally normal to be roomies. In a house. When they have a kid. Yeah....totally normal. 

No it wasn't. 

 _Also_ , holy shit, he was legitimately considering moving in with Wade Wilson. Because he _wanted_ to live with _Wade Wilson._ How had he gotten to a point in his life where even staying with Wade for a week made sense, let _alone_ actually full-blown live with the guy? Oh shit. Ohhhh shit. Wade and Ellie were family, that was this was, goddamn it. He considered _Deadpool_ family, because his life was insane. Completely and utterly insane. Well, and because the guy had been working really fucking hard on being a better person, and they had been through a lot together, and all those other perfectly rational reasons for why Wade _would_ be family. Fuck, the guy was already close with Aunt May, and knew his secret identity. Peter had been to a _parent teacher conference,_ despite being the only adult coming that couldn't actually qualify as one of Ellie's parents. Of course they were family, it'd been a hell of a year. 

He was kind of really glad that he agreed to the birthday party all those months ago. 

He was also still kind of freaking out about wanting to live with them permanently. He wasn't used to desiring a new home that was already occupied. Less shitty living places, yes, but this felt dramatically different. 

He especially had no idea how he was going to approach Wade and be all like “so can I stay for dinner and by dinner I mean forever” without making it weird, so he was resolutely _not_ going to do that in three days. However, Ellie had dropped off her stuff and was staying at a friend’s house for the night, which made this the perfect opportunity to ask Wade an entirely different question that could also have long lasting repercussions. Most likely worse ones, and yet, this question was significantly easier to ask. 

Wade was comfortably sprawled out on the couch, legs up and hand behind his head and content to allow himself to zone out in front of the telethon that was playing on the TV. Maybe it was a bad time, because Wade rarely looked that relaxed, but Peter was already in costume and bouncing on the balls of his feet, so he was gonna go for it. 

Mask still in hand, he leaned over the back of the couch and gave Wade a breezy smile. 

“Hey Wade?” 

Wade didn't even look up, just made a sound of acknowledgment. 

“I was thinking...” 

This got the man to look at him now, a smile on his face that matched Pete's own. “Always dangerous.” 

Peter ignored the sudden increase in his heart rate and the overall jittery feeling in his body to ask, “Would you like to go on patrol with me tonight? You know, get a piece of the action?” 

Wade sat up immediately and heavy lidded eyes went bright and alert. Swear to god, it was like asking a dog to go for a walk. Absently, Peter speculated that if Wade had a tail, it would be wagging. “Peter Benjamin Parker, do _not_ fuck with me, are you suggesting a team-up? Because it sounds like you're suggesting a team-up.” 

“I am _absolutely_ suggesting a team-up.” 

Wade did an adorable fist pump before jumping off the couch and singing “Backstreet's back, alright!” in a voice that was about an octave off from the original. Smirking, Pete responded to this by stating, “We don't have enough people to be the Backstreet Boys,” because he's a killjoy.

When Wade's eyes went even brighter to the point of mischievous twinkle, Peter elaborated, “No, that does not mean we should go find more people to team up and get them to reenact boy band music with us. We have a _mission._ ”

“You sure? Because I'm _preeetttyyyy_ certain I can get Luke and Danny to join us. We're pretty much besties. I like, invented them, you know?” 

Dropping his voice into a huskier tone, Peter responded with, “Well, you could, but that wouldn't make for a very, ah, _intimate_ evening, now would it?” 

It was meant as a joke, the same flirtatious banter that had always been an integral part of their rapport. Considering how often they had done it in the past, Pete hadn't thought this was the wrong thing to say. And yet, as soon as it was out, Wade's entirely body language went from excitement to panic, spine straight and muscles stiff. Whatever joviality had been in his voice had fled when he said, “This is a bad idea.” 

Pete wasn't sure if that comment was directed at him or if Wade was stating it to himself. Both, most likely, but, huh? “How?” 

Wade's expression clouded, and his tone was unsettling to say the least. “I'm sorry, did you forget who I am, fundamentally, as a person? Deadpool, _Mercenary_ with a mouth, deranged killer, murders out the wazoo, etc. A patrol is hardly the best environment for a guy like me.” 

Peter, like an asshole, gave a bit of a snort and said, “Oh, yeah, you're terrifying. So ruthless. A real ‘wouldn’t cry if a dog died in a movie’ kind of guy. C'mon, Wade, you work as a weapons consultant. You're in the line of fire pretty often and you're fine, why is a patrol any different?” 

Wade carefully avoided eye contact with him, blowing a puff of air out and telling him, “When Fury is breathing down your neck and about 12 seconds away from firing your ass, you don’t get the chance to be a fuck-up. Patrolling ain't like that, my guy. Plus, our team-ups in particular tend to go off the rails. Do you even _remember_ the Hypno-hustler incident?” 

Peter gave a fond eye-roll, breezily responding, “Dude, things going off the rails is kind of the point. Bonus if there’s a cheer-leading outfit or a vengeful god involved.” 

With a grunt of frustration, Wade told him, “I nearly _killed_ you, Petey-pie, or did you forget in that hopelessly naive and concerningly optimistic lil' noggin of yours? I ain't doin' that shit again.” 

Pete gave a wave of his hand, telling Wade, “Dude, that was years ago. If you were a threat, I of all people would know. Spidey-sense and all that. Plus, if you're so worried, just, I dunno, don't bring any weapons, then you can't kill anybody accidentally, right?” 

“Well I don’t know about you, but my hand to hand combat skills are less Jackie Chan and a lot more Captain Kirk. Without a weapon I’m basically useless. Why bring me along at that point?” 

Peter gave a shrug and an easy smile. “Maybe I just like having you around, ever consider that?” 

“Of course not. I am exactly the kind of person that nobody ‘just likes having around’.” 

“And I’m exactly the kind of person that likes having supposedly unlikable people around. C’mon Wade, you know that it’d be fuuuuuun.” 

God, Peter was so fucked. Like, stupidly besotted fucked. Like, getting Wade to come out on patrol and have a good time was the absolute most vital task in the history of the universe fucked. Wade searched his face for a moment, and without a hint of guilt, Peter pulled his “wide-eyed and hopeful puppy dog” expression in an effort to convince Wade to come with him. 

Apparently the doe eyes did the trick (they always did), because after a moment of scanning, Wade gave a faint smile, said “Yeah,okay,” and pulled on the mask. Peter gave a little fist pump of victory and an exalted, “Yes!,” before running to grab his own mask and web shooters.In the two minutes it took Peter to hurry up the stairs and back, Wade was already in full gear and contemplating his options for weaponry. 

“See the thing is, Pete, I can't just _not_ bring Bea Arthur. She'd be so upset if she wasn't there the first time I got back in action. Well, real action, at least. I'm not counting Shield missions.” 

Peter gave a shrug and said, “So bring Bea Arthur. She's the left katana, right? I’ve seen the kind of tricks you can pull with her, it’ll be fine.” 

“But, like, _Pete-_ ” 

Peter interrupted him with a simple “Bruh. You’re over-thinking this. Just, let it happen. I’ll keep you in check and we’ll see where we end up.” 

“Yes. _I_ am the one who over-thinks things. I wouldn’t know a _single_ other individual who you could _possibly_ mistake as the over-thinker of the group. Never _once_ have I succumbed to a wild or impulsive way.” 

“Wade. The flow is heading out the door, now go with it.” 

“ _Fine._ But if someone dies, I am not to be held responsible.” 

Wade, or, well, Deadpool, right now, clipped on his belt with an air of finality and gave a nod at Peter. Peter responded in turn by excitedly grabbing his wrist and dragging him to the front yard, upon which he realized that he had made a grievous error. Turning back to Wade, he asked, “So, uh, how should we get downtown?” 

“You’re the one that commutes, what the hell do you usually do to get there?” 

“A combo of buses and, uh, thwiping most of the time. However, there are a few logistical errors with that approach when I’m fully costumed in a suburban area and there’s two people involved.”

 Wade was about .2 seconds from making a “Riding him” joke when a brilliant, majestic, fantastic, genius, ground-breaking, amazing idea popped into his head. Swallowing down a maniac cackle, he gleefully stated, “The minivan.” 

Despite the presence of a mask on his, Wade could just _tell_ that Peter”s eyes lit up. “The _minivan._ Can we Mad Max it?” 

“It insults me that you assume that I haven’t _already_ Mad Maxed it.” 

Peter turned his head in confusion, as he was 98% sure it was an ordinary minivan when he saw it earlier in the day. In turn, Wade simply raised on finger, withdrew his key fob, and opened the garage down. Of its own volition, the minivan rolled out, complete with protruding spikes, the cannibalized parts of other cars, and heavy armor plating. At this point, Pete was visibly vibrating. “ _Yeeeeeeeeesss._ Wade, this is all I’ve ever wanted ever.” 

“To ride in a dubiously legal minivan with a former mercenary?” 

“To ride in a dubiously legal minivan with a former mercenary _into battle._ Shit, man, I didn’t actually know that this was my life aspiration until this very moment, but, let me tell you, if I had, I would _not_ have bothered with any of this P.H.D nonsense. This is way better than biophysics.” 

“Petey babe?”

 “Yeah?”

“ _Everything’s_ better than biophysics. Do you even hear yourself?”

 Peter gave him a nudge in the side for that little comment, because biophysics were actually rad as hell, and tried to steal the keys. Wade yelled “Fuck no, permit boy!” at him, so as revenge he stood out of the sunroof (when did this thing get a sunroof?) the entire way. There are few greater experiences in life than exiting a quiet neighborhood blasting AC/DC standing in war minivan.

 Oh god, Wade was turning him chaotic neutral. He remembered to care about that when instead of parking like a normal goddamn person, he crashed into an alleyway and nearly chopped Peter in half. When Peter gave him a look of concern over the now smoking car, Wade shrugged and made some sort vague comment about having a guy before placing his hands on his hips, looking up, and asking, “So are we gonna Yoda this shit or what?”

Peter made a kind of groaning noise in response, so Wade continued, “Unless, of course, you’d prefer _I_ had the web shooters and you be the backpack.”

 Peter pulled his wrists to his chest and hissed at Wade, which was answer enough for Wade to go ahead and hop on. Going through Pete’s usual route resulted in a relatively quiet first hour or two. They talked and joked throughout the evening, with Peter breaking up a few fights and stopping a few muggers while Wade watched (his ass) from the rooftops. Wade got a text from his guy that the minivan was ready whenever, and they considered heading out in about fifteen minutes when Wade noticed something out of the corner of his eye. “Wait, Pete, holy shit, we gotta thwip over there real quick. I think there’s one major shit going down.” 

Pete gave a nod and some sort of complicated hand gesture that meant who knows what, and they went about a block over. Their eyes went simultaneously wide, and Peter started lightly smacking Wade’s arm, saying, “Dude dude dude dudedudedudedude, major C-list villain meet-up going down, this is gonna be _amazing,”_ in what was probably supposed to be a whisper but was, in fact, only slightly quieter than his normal talking voice. At least twenty faces that even Wade had trouble recognizing turned on them at once, and ho ho _holy shit,_ the adrenaline coursing through his brain was telling him this was going to be fun as all hell. Wade gave a nod towards Pete, asking, “I’ll take Kanga, you go for Paste guy, and then whatever happens in the middle is anyone’s game?”

 Peter probably winked under the mask like the dork he was before saying, “You know it.”

Leaping off the building and thwiping a line to the nearest streetlight, Peter swung over the mob and announced, “Ya know boys, you could really go for some color coordination if you’re gonna have a giant evil dude meet-up. I mean how are people going to know you’re a team when some of you are bright orange and others are clashing forest green?”

 As Peter elegantly flipped into a landing, Wade just hurled himself into a nearby dumpster, before climbing out with a groan and flopping onto the unforgiving ground. “That’s why Spidey and I match. So everyone knows we’re a goddamn team.”

 Kangaroo made a swing at Peter that he easily dodged, before landing a kick to the underside of his jaw. “I still maintain that you totally stole my costume.”

 Wade finally got with the fuckin’ program and ran up to slice the glue guns out of Paste Pot’s hands, scoffing as he replied, “And I still maintain that I was _obviously_ ripping off Deathstroke, duh, it’s practically like I was introduced as a character to mock that DC asshole. Plus, I don’t see a single spider web on my costume, so check and mate.”

Rhino made a charge which Peter jumped up to avoid before using his shoulders as a springboard, vaulting himself and landing squarely on, oh, uh, crap, The Enforcer(?)’s chest. Yeah, Enforcer sounded correct. “Removing the spiderwebs is like, the bare minimum you could do to avoid a lawsuit. I should know, that’s almost always the first thing knock off toys do. Well, either that or change the color scheme, but red and black is a great look and everyone knows it.”

Wade had Basilisk in a headlock with one arm and gave a little “Oh you!” wave to Pete with the other. “Thanks, babe! You don’t look too bad yourself, especially with that fighting style, _yum!_ I do gotta say though, your rogues gallery kinda blows. I mean half of them are just a random vaguely powerful animal and the other are The ‘insert menacing verb’-ers. Like The Punisher. Wait, no, shit, I fucked up, fuck.”

The Enforcer? No, that’s right, they were the Enforcer _s,_ a henchmen gang. Swag. Anyway, he went from one Enforcer’s chest to giving a pretty nasty right hook to one of the other Enforcer’s gut. “To be fair, I _have_ had to go toe-to-toe with The Punisher a fair number of times. I mean, dude’s more morally ambiguous than, well, _you._ You’re not wrong about the rogues though. Hell, some of the verbs aren’t even menacing. I’ve had to fight _The Tinkerer,_ of all things. Who the heck is intimidated by tinkering? Goddamn nobody.”

 A well-aimed elbow to the solar plexus took down someone who even Wade’s obsessive ass didn’t know, and he started to look for something to contain what appeared to be the living embodiment of “Bees?”. “Yo bad guys! Is that why y’all are meeting up? To come up with less shitty ‘super’villian names?”

 That got a decent amount of angry noises from the C-listers, and Bees hollered with a thousand irritating little voices, “No, fool! We gathered to destroy the Spider-man!”

Wade and Peter both snorted at that, Pete replying, “Yeah? How’s that goin’ for ya?” as Wade said, “You only wanna destroy Spidey? I’m a little hurt, to be honest. I think I would’ve decently pissed off some of you for you to want to destroy me too, but I see how it is. Only the man of spiders can truly hold the blood lust in your heart.”

 Bees started vibrating faster and the eight or so bad guys that were still standing rapidly closing in. While that went down, Wade and Pete had managed to find each other and were now standing back to back in a rad fighting pose. A quick exchanged glance, then they were off again. Wade cut through the closest fire hydrant which made Bees recoil and drove the others back, while Pete brought out the webs, trapping Bees in a sphere that would contain it well enough for now. They then made quick work of the stranglers, throwing punches and kicks and webbing and the occasional knife just enough to have them packaged up real pretty for when the police finally showed. Things were looking good, and Wade was about to start snapping pics of some of these guys’ outfits, because, _seriously,_ when he heard a grunt of pain come from Peter. He whipped around and paled at the sight, because Pete was _really fucking injured, oh_ _fuck me_ _._

Pete hadn’t grunted because the Finisher or whatever had landed a decent punch, but because Rhino had popped up again and apparently _fucking sliced Peter goddamn open._ Rhino _the fucking bastard he was gonna fucking murder him swear to god_ had slashed from one side of his abdomen to the other, about two inches deep. And goddamn, it was a bad cut it was a really goddamn bad cut holyfuckholyfuckholyfuckholyfuck. It was like “if the organ damage doesn’t get you the blood loss sure will” bad. Normal people would die from that kind of cut, and Pete was close enough to normal that _it was really_ **fucking** _concerning._

 Wade stormed up to Rhino, vision red, and was absolutely silent as he stabbed a katana through Rhino’s femur, pinning him to the building behind him. The scream of agony was music to his ears, and if it weren’t for Peter, he would’ve twisted the blade, tried to apply enough pressure for the fucker’s femur to snap, and for the jagged edges of broken bone to be driven into his thigh muscles by said muscles and making him rightfully suffer one of the most painful experiences a human can endure. As it was, Rhino was hindered enough, and Wade made a dizzingly fast transition from fury to panicked worry. He ran for Pete, who had stumbled enough that he had ended up leaning against a wall. The fact that he was standing at all was impressive, considering how haggard his breathing was and how he was using both arms to try and keep his insides _fucking inside._

 Pete caught his eye and gave the weakest smile Wade had ever seen on him, sucking in a deep breath so he could huff out, “It’s not as bad as it looks.”

 Peter didn’t know if that was true or not, but it seemed like the thing to say. He hadn’t actually mustered up the courage to look at his wound. Also, he was alternating between feeling kinda numb to feeling about 95% certain he was actively on fire, so that may be cause for concern. Still, he had survived worse. Oh! He should tell Wade that, maybe then he would stop making loud noises at him. “Seriously, I have a healing factor, I’ll live.”

 Wade was still making loud noises that were probably words at him, but hell if his brain could process them. He felt a little light-headed (probably on account of the blood loss, a distant voice in his head told him), and decided hey, sitting down seems pretty nice. Wade sat down next to him and was actively putting pressure on his wound, even though it was getting blood all over his suit. Wade was a good person like that. Peter was really, really happy Wade was in his life. He considered telling Wade as much, but he was exhausted, and it seemed like that would be a lot of energy to say. Oh! He did have one thing he absolutely had to muster up the willpower to get out though. “Hey, uh, Wade? Can I move in permanently?”

 “Fucking shit, Parker, you survive this and we’ll build you your own goddamn VIP suite.”

The weak smile got a little bit stronger, and he even managed to say, “Cool,” before passing out.

  _FuckshitfuckshitfuckshitFUCK._ Pete was passed out and the despite the pressure the bleeding didn’t seem to be slowing down and goddamn how much blood had he already lost and what the hell was he going to do and FUCK. With his free hand, Wade pulled out his cell and got up 9 on his speed dial. “Fury, hi, yeah, I’m gonna need you to track this phone and get your ass down here with state of the art medical equipment about ten minutes ago. Kthnxbye.”

 

~*~

 

Peter woke up feeling rather decent for having been almost chopped in half. Groggy, but someone had definitely gotten him the good drugs because he could feel nothing past his chest. He also hadn’t died, which was a plus for sure. It took a couple minutes after regaining consciousness for him to blink his eyes open, and the lights weren’t his friend, but he could finally gain a bearing of his location. The beeping, scratchy sheets, and sterile aesthetic said hospital, the fact that no one was yelling at him about a secret identity said either _incredibly_ discrete doctors or a private facility. Lolling his head to one side showed him the window view, which was 100% clouds and blue. Huh. They were in the air, so Peter was probably in a Helicarrier. Good to know. Someone was certainly taking care of him.

 He lolled his head to the other side and found that someone. Wade was back in civilian gear, a loose Squirrel Girl t-shirt, heart-patterned pajama pants, and a lovely lack of an image inducer. Ellie was curled up against him, her head on his shoulder and his head resting on hers, both of them asleep. Oh neat. His family was here and looked comfy as heck. In fact, their coziness made him think that this whole being awake business wasn’t really his scene.

 With an indeterminate amount of time later, coming back to the world wasn’t such a struggle. Whatever they had pumped into him was starting to wear off, judging by the lack of brain fog and the presence of some good ol’ pain. Ellie was sitting on a counter scrolling through something on her phone while Wade was standing guard at his bedside, arms folded and expression blank. Peter tried to pipe up with a, “Hey, gorgeous, come here often?”, but it came out a lot more like, “Hrrgggg.”

Wade and Ellie turned their heads so quickly he wouldn’t be surprised if they later sued him for whiplash. Wade’s expression was weirdly unreadable. Ellie, on the other hand, violently tossed down her phone, threw herself off the counter and ran over to him yelling, “What in the fuckening shit, Parker?!”

 Wade gave her an admonishing glare, sounding scandalized as he said, “Ellie, hey! That’s my line!”

 He then turned to stare Peter in the eye. “What in the fuckening shit, Parker?”

 Peter held up a peace sign and cleared his throat a few times before throatily replying, “I lived bitch.”

 “Fucking _barely_ you piece of garbage.”

 “Yo, can this piece of garbage get some water?”

 Wade nodded towards his beside table, and, hey, look at that, a glass of water. Awesome. He took some sips under the dual glares of his favorite father daughter combo, before asking, “So how long I been out?”

Ellie said,”About a day.”

 Wade said, “25 hours, 13 minutes, and 54 seconds. Though you would occasionally come to for a second or so before passing out again.”

 “Aw, I knew you cared.”

 “Of course I care, I mean for fuck’s sake I’m in-”

 To Pete’s confusion, Wade cut himself off with a snap of his jaw. When he glanced over to Ellie, she had wide eyes and her mouth slightly agape, though it was definitely in shock rather than befuddlement. Ten bucks says she knows exactly what Wade was going to say. Maybe he could ask her later and get the juicy gossip, but she was pretty ride or die when it came to her dad, so he kinda doubted it. “You’re in? In what? In vogue? Incognito?”

Wade glanced around rapidly, swallowed, and then with a shake of his head he went from terrified to smirking. “I’m invested in your future, obvs. I mean, considering you’re gonna actually be living in our house, you’re gonna have to start paying rent. And as your new landlord, it would be a tragedy if you died before at least paying first and last months rent. Plus we haven’t even filled out a tenant’s contract, it’d be a logistical nightmare for you to expire.”

Ellie was glaring at her dad in the beginning, but it transitioned quickly to boundless excitement when it got to his second sentence. She tugged on his shirt and asked, “Wait. Pete is gonna stay with us from now on?”

 Peter had a goofy grin on his face when he answered. “Sure am, Ellie-belly. That is, if you’re good with it.”

Ellie let out an ear-piercing squee and started bouncing on the balls of her feet. “Dude, that’s so cool! This is the best! I can’t believe you tried to die on us right before we gotta have, like, boatloads of fun. Uncle Pete you don’t even know! You’re never gonna finish your thesis, we’re gonna be having waaaayyy too many adventures for that, all day erry day.”

 Peter chuckled softly at that, because he honestly hadn’t thought about how he was supposed to write any sort of scientific paper in their chaos house, but he found he wouldn’t necessarily mind sacrificing his PhD for adventures with Ellie and Wade and the rest of the gang. “Sounds great, but I think I might hold off on the adventuring for a day or two.”

 “You better, butthead! May’ll kill either you or Dad or both if you mess up your stitches.”

 Now _that_ was something that struck fear in the hearts of men far braver than himself. Blanching, Peter looked desperately at Wade and asking, “Oh god, does Aunt May know?”

 Wade shrugged as if May couldn’t single-handedly take down the entirety of S.H.I.E.L.D. if she thought her boy needed her. “She doesn’t know the specifics, but, uh, she called after you missed brunch and I had to tell her _something.”_

“I’m a dead man.”

Wade suddenly went soft, unfolding his arms and letting his shoulders slump, a smile fighting its easy onto his face. Soft was a good look on him. “No, thank god you’re not.”

 Ellie looked rapidly between the two of them, matching smiles as they did that gross thing where they just kinda gazed at each other, and rapidly realized just how _dumb_ grown-ups were. It’d be endearing if it weren’t so freakin’ annoying. “So, ANYWAY, while you we’re pulling the sleeping beauty routine, I started reading _Animorphs._ ”

 “Oh snap, I used to love those books.”

 “I’m diggin’ them, but, like, what the heck, man? First book and Tobias get stuck as a hawk. That kind of scarring crap doesn’t usually start until at least the middle of a series.”

“I’m gonna warn you right now kid, those books are the definition of ‘intensity intensifies’. Have you started getting to the existentialist parts ‘cause those are wild.”

 “What? No, I haven’t yet but I’m pumped. I feel like these are going to be some very formative for me. Dunno if it’s gonna be good formative or bad formative though.”

 Peter and Ellie continued to chat about the books she had gotten through for about an hour while Wade went off to do Adult Things™. You know, like ask (nag) a doctor about Peter’s status and get an idea of when they would land and answer the 11 panicked voice-mails from Preston. Real thrilling stuff.

 What he found out was now that Pete had been solidly awake for awhile, someone could come in and look at his injury. Based on his advanced healing rates, the stitches would unfortunately need to stay for a day or so longer. However, the gaping hole had lessened to an angry red slash within about twelve hours, (“I told you I had a healing factor.” “If you die and stay dead it doesn’t count for shit.”) and he was allowed to leave as soon as they got back to Wilson-Camacho house. 

His first few steps were a little shaky, and he admittedly didn’t feel great, but with a little support from Wade and teasing from Ellie, he made it out of the Hellicarrier and into his home no problem. Man, it was so nice to be home. It was so nice for this house to officially _be_ home. It was so, _so_ nice to live with family again. God, he loved Wade and Ellie so much that it was dizzying, and he was going to be there, right by their side whenever he wanted, and that was the nicest of all.

 Ugh, being in the hospital had made him such a sap. At least after the team-up and subsequent threat to his life, he was feeling sappy rather than anxious about where he stood and why he stood there. Still, it was crazy to think about what in his life had led to him loving Wade Winston Wilson of all people. Never thought he’d be best friends with an ex-mercenary turned walking dad stereotype, but it was turning out to be a pretty sweet gig.

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Who the fuck did he think was he kidding? Them being besties wasn’t the conclusion that had been freaking him out before this whole mess started. He was freaked out because he was undeniably  _in_ love with Wade.

 Welp.

 Heck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay so Bees actual supervillian name is Swarm, who I only even know about because of a Squirrel-Girl comic, no joke. All the other supervillians referenced are actually called that in Marvel canon because comics are a nightmare.
> 
> sorry I didn't want to try and write a fighting scene so hard i procrastinated for like a year lol
> 
> Next chapter: a certain lean, mean, time travelin' machine shows up and I'll have to add a character tag


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